


The Story of Us

by Skyforged (Travelilah)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hate to Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, So slowburn that a snail will go faster, WinterShock - Freeform, foes to bros to hoes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-08-27 03:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16694644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Travelilah/pseuds/Skyforged
Summary: Like a fairy tale of old, she is beauty, she is grace, and she will fuck up your face if you look at her the wrong way; she will tase you in the balls and make you fall.That is how Darcy Lewis likes to describe herself. It rhymes as well, which she is pretty proud of.Unfortunately, it hasn’t caught on as well as she would like; she knows that Jane, for instance, uses other words to describe her.Words like sarcastic, loud, obnoxious, crude, and inappropriate—the list goes on.Even with all of that, what's not to love?Apparently a lot, according to Bucky Barnes.[Rewriting as of 28th April, 2019]





	1. 8th August, 2014

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to: Bahowle - this guy is the best Alpha reader ever. Doing edits on demand, and listening to me whine about my writing sucking and trying to convince me otherwise each time. This story is for you. 
> 
> Other major thanks go to the beta's that have looked over this: emmagnetised, cosmicentity1of4, SlytherinStarkRavingMad, thestanceyg. Thank you all so much for catching my errors and helping me to improve my skills as a writer <3
> 
> I have a good 20k of this written up so I figured I would post it now, while the muse is still around :)
> 
> Also, sneaky dedication in here to seibelsays and crimtastic for being amazing ladies who cheerlead me on tumblr and to SlytherinStarkRavingMad for reminding me why i write fan fic <3

 

 

  


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of that art. I just put the collage together from art work I found on tumblr and Pintrest. I also don't own MCU or any of the characters.**

 

**[8th August 2014]**

**< Avengers Tower, New York City>**

Darcy had come to regret many of the choices she’d made over the course of her life.

Never asking out Robby Rutledge in eighth grade, not picking a different major in college, getting her belly button pierced Spring Break 2009 and never getting to tell her parents _I love you_ one last time before the crash.

Honestly, the list was near endless and full of stupid (and not-so-stupid) shit that she shouldn’t have done. But c’est la vie, Hakuna Matata, and all those other sayings.

She just thought that at twenty-four she would know better: but no, she was still a gullible fool that trusted too easily. 

The latest regret to be tacked on to the end of the list was a real doozy: signing back on to work with Jane again. In her defence, the devilish scientist had suggested it when she was drunk as a skunk from a copious amount tequila. 

Jane had painted a pretty picture for her of wide open offices, a travel allowance, unlimited coffee and even a title upgrade from ~~minion~~ Intern to Assistant Lab Manager.

All of it had sounded so good, that she’d signed the contract and promptly passed out on top of the bar, dreaming of all the wonderful ways she’d be able to decorate her office.

She’d woken up on Jane's couch in the morning with the hangover from hell and the news that she started her new job in two hours. After all her years in knowing Jane, she always forgot her friend was an evil genius.

Darcy did have to grudgingly admit the gig wasn’t that bad, but she would never admit that to anyone. Another huge perk of getting a title upgrade was that she was getting paid. With real money (she’d checked), which was a nice change from the Monopoly notes Jane used to give her.

The salary itself was nothing to sneeze at. She could live in comfort and still have some spare change at the end of the week to buy herself a bottle of wine or five. Depending on how many Lab explosions there had been. Another bonus was the little windowless ~~cupboard~~ room she got to call her office.

The first thing she’d done when she’d stepped foot into the room was to decorate and set it up to be her home away from home, as it was the place she spent the majority of her time.

Metaphorically, she was chained to her desk. Inputting data and creating spreadsheets for her mad scientist of a boss, who seemed to have this crazy notion in her head that everybody was able to go twenty-four hours without sleep in order to analyze terabytes of raw data.

Of course, that idea was only fuelled by her unlimited access to caffeine and Tony Stark, who’d hired Jane to work in the Tower after the shit that had gone down in London.

Darcy was snapped out of her reverie by a heavy manilla folder landing on the desk in front of her.  "Check that out, Lewis."

"Sure, in about five years," she muttered without looking up from the latest Lab Safety report she was engrossed in.

Tony frowned down at her and didn't move from his spot, perching his tincan ass on her desk and blocking her access to her untouched, and now cold lunch. "Lewis, answer me this. Is this all you want to do in life?"

Darcy didn't even bother to respond. 

She knew what was coming, and what Tony was going to say. Another "you're wasting your potential" lecture, followed by a side serving of guilt, and then finding a way to hint that she needed to help him debug some lines of code for his new pet project: Ultra Lame or Ultron. Something like that. She honestly never paid any attention to Tony’s tech rants unless the words coffee or glitter were involved.

Gritting her teeth, she recited the standard answer she’d used over and over when she needed to get the irritating genius off her back. “Tony, I am happy with my current job and don’t need to you trying to plan out my life. If you want to do that, look at your own social calendar.”

Tony shook his head. “I just can’t believe that you don’t have something better to be doing with your time.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and conspiratorially whispered, “Do you need the cash? Is that why you’re working so much overtime? Do you owe the mafia money? Or even worse,” he mimed gagging, “do you have an addiction to work?”

Darcy snorted. “No, it’s called being a responsible adult and paying off my student loans.”

Tony scrunched up his face. “Ew. Well, that’s boring. I thought you were fun.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. 

Of course, Tony never had and would never understand anything about being in debt up to your eyeballs. About having to save every spare penny to put it towards such things as ‘loans.’ Damn rich kids.

Nowadays, it wasn’t such a tight squeeze, as she tried to not the let interest grow out of control by making actual payments. With the way things were going, though, the bank was still going to own her by the time she reached forty.

“You know,” Tony said, leaning forward and giving her a look that spelt trouble. “I can make those student loans just _disappear_.” He gave his fingers a wiggle.

Darcy groaned and let her head fall onto her desk with a _thud_. She really didn’t have the mental stamina to be dealing with this, she’d already sacrificed most of her brain cells to the Safety Reports today and didn’t have any to spare to be debating her life choices with Tony. Keyword there being _her_.

“Is that a maybe?”

“No, Tony. That’s a definite _no_. But I’ll tell you what, if I ever need someone to help me with a disappearing act, I'll give Chris Angel a call.”

“Really?”

Darcy’s head shot up, neck cracking, at the tone of his voice. From previous experience, she knew it meant he was up to something that would spell out trouble for whoever else was involved.

Tony shot her a smug grin. “Great, I actually have his number.”

She looked at Tony in disbelief, but the longer she stared at his infuriatingly smug face, the more she actually started to believe him, which meant that she actually did have to ask the question. “You don’t _really_ have his number do you, Bossman? If so, why the hell have you been holding out on a girl—and most importantly, how the hell did you get it?”

As expected, Tony’s poker face finally cracked as he chuckled darkly. “Of course not, that would be silly. Do you actually believe he does magic, too?" He made a show of typing something into his phone. “Because I gotta tell you, the only real magic is how smart I am. Lookie what I found.” He flipped the phone around to show her what he’d brought up.

It took her a moment to realise what she was looking at. Numbers, but not just any numbers. About six digits that tallied up to how much she owed in student loans and haunted her dreams. “Tony,” she hissed. “That’s—” she struggled to find the words. “The fuck? Boss of my boss or not, that shit is my business and has to be illegal or something. Can I call HR? Because you’re being an asshole again.”

Tony scoffed. “HR has given up on any complaints involving me so good luck with that.” Shaking his head at her, he pulled the phone back to him, tapping on the screen a few times. He whistled. “Wow, Darcy, that’s a lot of interest. You know the offer is still there, I can make—”

“No!” she snapped, pointing a finger in warning at him.

He gave a heavy sigh and looked at her with such concern that she almost felt bad for rejecting his offer of help, but goddamnit she had her pride. “Tony, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but it’s too much. I promise, if I ever need a can opener, I’ll give you a call.”

Tony shook his head at her. “Honey, you do realise that I could buy the bank and have your loans wiped out in under five minutes.”

“Yes,” she hissed, before closing her eyes and taking in a big breath, digging deep for patience.

Darcy knew Tony was coming from a good place. It was just that her tolerance for this particular conversation was well and truly over. It wasn’t the first time that someone had offered to swoop in and take all of her money problems away. The conversation always went the same way; it was like a video was playing on a loop, repeating the same words and scene over and over again.

Tony had tried. Jane had tried. Darcy’s Babushka had offered, more than once, to spend her retirement savings on her loans. Hell, even Thor had tried to give her some actual Asgardian gold. She’d managed to distract him before he had a chance to hand the small chest of treasure over.

Seeming to sense her frustration, Tony reached out and cupped her chin so she was looking up at him. His brown eyes danced with warmth. “Do you know why I keep hounding you about this, Darcy?” Tony asked, looking at her with such a fatherly expression that it kind of creeped her out.

She jerked her chin back out of his grip and gestured for him to go on.

“It’s because you’re young, Darcy. You should be partying it up or living on campus or whatever kids in their twenties are doing nowadays. Hell, I was still doing it in my thirties.”

“Rotting their brains with addictions to Instagram and pot?”

“Well, at least they have a life and see the sun rather than sitting in an Office all day. You can’t tell me that you actually enjoy all of this filing that Foster has you doing?

“Well, I’m not just doing stuff for Jane…”

“What?”

“I also tweaked the subroutines for the way JARVIS files reports for the different Labs and why are you looking at me like that Tony…” She sighed. “We are not related. Just because I have a great sense of humour, hacking skills and brown hair, that does not make me your love child.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Fine, but it still proves a point.”

“What?”

“You’re good at so much, yet you’re wasting your time in here. Lost potential.”

“Tony, please…”

“I'll go, just promise to actually think about my offer, huh? Let me put the money to some good use rather than buying Pepper a new car or a lifetime supply of frozen yoghurt.”

She gave him her best, _Really?_ look and he pouted.

“Fine, I’m going. But I’ll be asking again next week,” he warned before shoving himself off the desk and heading for the door. He paused mid-stride. “Almost forgot.” He pulled a thumb drive out of his pocket and waved it at her. “Catch,” he said before tossed it.

Not the most coordinated person on her best of days, Darcy leaned over and missed it by a couple of inches. It still landed safely on the desk, rather than the floor. Reaching out she picked up the device and brought it up to eye level to examine it. “What’s this?”

Tony propped himself up against the door jam. His chocolate brown eyes studied her for a bit before he finally said,  “It’s a project that I would appreciate a second pair of eyes on.”

Dary placed a hand over her heart. “And you’re asking little old me?”

Tony shrugged.

“Tony,” she chided, twisting the drive between her fingers. “You need to tell me what’s on here and what you need help with exactly.”

“I don’t—” he started but stopped when he saw the smug look on her face.

She raised her brows. She could wait as long as it took for Tony Stark to admit that he needed her help. Hell, she should probably mark it down on the calendar and get a recording of it because no one was going to believe her. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Tony was looking at the floor when he finally admitted, “There are some lines of code that I can’t get to work.” 

Ah. Well, at least that explained why he was talking to her.

It also hadn’t escaped her notice that he hadn’t answer one of her questions. She bit her lip as she took another moment to examine the drive. It looked like a regular old Stark Tech USB stick. Nothing sinister about it that might signify a stash or porn or the latest schematics for a suit.

As a rule of thumb though, she always needed details on the project before she got her hands dirty. Levelling him with her no-bullshit stare, she asked him again, “What’s on here Tony?”

“Nothing that isn’t age appropriate, Sparky,” Tony said, sounding awfully defensive. “Look, it’s nothing bad. Just…” he looked to be struggling for words. Biting his lip, Tony came back into the room and hovered in front of her. “It’s something that I’ve been working on for a while now and I’m so close to having it done. To be able to implement it and save thousands of lives…” His face was so full of hope and expression so tender that Darcy wondered if she was having an aneurysm. Tony sighed and took a step back. “It would mean a lot if you could look it over, Lewis.”

“Fine,” she agreed, throwing her hands up in the air. God, she was such a sucker.  

A broad grin spread across Tony’s face. “Knew I could count on you, Sparky. So you reckon you can have it done by Monday morning?”

Darcy’s jaw hit the floor. He wanted her to go through a probable fuck tonne lines of code for him by Monday? She didn’t get to tell him to go sit on a cactus though, as he was already out the door before the insult could roll off her tongue.

“Fucking great,” she muttered to herself. “So much for having a weekend.”

Feeling the need to eat away her frustration, Darcy reached out to grab her lunch. Only, her hand was met with an empty plate. She turned her head It was covered in crumbs; the only evidence left of the toastie that had once been.

Oh, now she was mad. Nobody, fucking nobody, messed with her food. With renewed vigour, Darcy spun logged back into her computer and brought up her programming console. She started to type away furiously command prompts and lines of code dancing from her fingertips.  

Because she was on a mission. Tony thought that he could steal her food?

Oh no. Tincan had another thing coming for him.

 

**< Jane Fosters Research Lab, Avengers Tower>**

 

“Hey, Jane, you here?” Darcy called out, as she wandered into the Lab. Dumping her bag on the closest free chair that she spotted, Darcy unwound her scarf and plopped it on top of her bag, before reluctantly heading over to Jane’s desk.

As expected, there was yet another pile of paperwork that was waiting for Jane her to fill out. Acquisition forms, invoices, safety reports, data requests and even damned interview requests, anything and everything could be in that pile and it wouldn’t surprise her.

Deciding that she would tackle the half-a-rainforest-worth of paper later, she shoved them over to the in-tray and fell back into Jane’s chair that was, honestly, the comfiest seat on the entire floor. More than once she’d thought about stealing it; it wasn’t like Jane ever used it. The damn scientist was always on her feet, darting between machines and zipping from computer to computer, typing things in as they popped into her brain.

 

Jane did always think best on her feet, but Darcy wasn’t one of those people and she firmly believed that she did her best thinking in a recliner, with someone massaging her sore heels and toes. That was a distant fantasy and something that wasn’t going to happen on its own. She would need to put in the hard yards if she ever wanted it to come true, even if it meant working through the monster headache she could feel forming behind her eyes. 

“Jane?” 

Still no response.

Assuming that the astrophysicist was either buried in work or comatose somewhere, Darcy sat back up and pulled out a laptop from underneath a pile of notebooks, scraps of paper with random and incomplete equations and a half-eaten Pop Tart.

Brushing some crumbs off the old StarkBook lid, Darcy booted up the ancient machine and waited for it to load. The thing was practically an antique and ran off software that was older than her, but Jane said it was the only thing that would run some specialised Math program that she needed to check her fancy squiggles that counted as math.

But that was not her problem.

Darcy had bigger fish to fry. Tony, for example. While she’d exacted her revenge for the highway lunch robbery she still had to make sure that he couldn’t hack into her personal information or any other accounts that she might have. Which meant she was going to have to do the one thing she loathed: update her passwords.

It’d be a lie to say that she didn’t have a particular one in mind: **Ironmansucks**

Cackling to herself, Darcy pulled up the Queen’s Community Bank webpage where she was presented with a problem; she couldn’t remember her current password. Most of the time she relied on her phone app. 

Doomed. She was utterly doomed. No way was she going to remember the password. Still, she dropped her head into her hands and started to rub her temples, trying to coax memory to the surface. “Come on, think, think, think. Remember.”

“What are you trying to remember?” Jane’s voice came from behind her.

Darcy jumped. “Gah, what the hell!” She spun around to face her pixie-sized boss..”Warn a girl would you.”

The tiny astrophysicist gave Darcy her patented patient look. “I’ve been here the whole time.” She gestured around the room.

“Then why didn’t you answer me?”

“I was concentrating on fixing the panel on one of the neutrino dishes,” Jane explained, before padding over to the other side of the desk.

Darcy quirked an eyebrow. “You know, Tony pays people to fix those for you, right? And to solder them back on rather than just using gum or tape?”

“I know.” Jane looked like she had sucked a lemon.

“So why didn’t you file a request with maintenance?”

Jane fiddled with her sleeve for a bit, looking anywhere but her. Darcy knew that look all too well. “Janey…”

 “I don’t want them messing with my stuff!” Jane finally burst out with, her hands gesticulating wildly. “The last guy that they sent here was an utter brute and completely ruined one of the radio dishes, broke a spectrometer and misaligned a telescope. Do you have any idea how long it took me to calibrate it?” 

Darcy rolled her eyes but shook her head, knowing it would do her friend some good to vent and get this out. Over their time together, if there was one thing that Darcy had learnt about Jane, it was that she could hold a grudge. Worse than that, really; she internalised it. Seething and hating, letting the anger build up until she erupted, melted down and then cried and apologised to the witnesses.

Yeah, Darcy had been there and done that a few times now. “Okay, Jane. I get it. Maintenance guys are bad.” Darcy did a double thumbs down.

Jane scoffed. “Oblivious, obnoxious oafs more like.”

“Did Thor teach you that one?"

“No. Maybe. Doesn't matter. I would rather a monkey doing maintenance over them.”

“We can do one better than a monkey. We can get one of the kids to do it.” Darcy wiggled her eyebrows with excitement.

“Huh?”

Darcy facepalmed. “You didn’t read the emails did you?”

“Darcy, I’m too busy to be checking my emails all the time. Besides, if anything is ever important enough you just tell me.”

“Jane.” She looked her favourite scientist dead in the eye and gave her the most disappointment look she could. “You can’t do that anymore. You need to read your emails.”

“If I had a Lab Assistant…” Jane trailed off looking quite pointedly at her.

“Sweet Jesus. If you had read your emails, you would have been able to get dibs on one of the new kids.”

“You mean I missed out?” Jane’s eyes went wide. “I’m not going to get an intern until next year?”

“I don't know. You'd have to check your emails to know that.”

“Fine,” her friend grouched, walking over to the laptop and swinging it around to face her. “I’ll check them now.”

Jane took one look at the screen and glanced back up at Darcy. “Are the accounts not okay?”

“Huh?” She furrowed her brows. Then it clicked. “Oh. No, no. Personal stuff. Changing my passwords so I don’t get hacked.” She added under  breath, “Not that there’s anything in there worth stealing.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said, pulling up emails and making a face. Darcy smirked as she heard the _inbox at capacity_ beep go off. 

“This is what happens if you don’t check your emails, Jane,” Darcy tutted.

“I know, I know,” she whined. “Can’t you just filter them for me? Like you used to?”

“No.”

“What, why not?”

“Because I am a super duper important Lab Manager now, and I have to read and write reports on the proper uses of rubber gloves. Titillating stuff, Jane. Edge of my seat—”

“I’ll buy you lunch for the next week.” This was why she loved Jane.

“See, you know me so well, now gimme that laptop.” She made grabby hands at the machine, seizing it by the lid and tugging it towards her.

Jane scowled. “Careful!”

Darcy waved her off. “I know it’s an antique and irreplaceable. I still say you should’ve taken IronCan’s offer for an upgrade.”

Jane huffed and opened her mouth to launch into an undoubtedly well-prepared speech in favour of her beloved chunk of computer, but caught herself and came out with something that Darcy wasn’t expecting. “Tony was in here looking for you earlier. Something about lab budgets.”

Darcy made a face. “He’s the reason I was on the QCB website. Ugh, that man doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, I swear to God.”

“Huh?” Jane was ruffling through some paperwork.

“He tried to say I’m wasting my life away working here. “

Janes stopped her rifling and raised her head. Bright brown eyes studied her thoughtfully. “He does have a point.”

“He what?” Darcy’s voice went up an octave.

She shrugged. “Tony’s got a point. You could do so much better than being a Lab Manager Darcy.”

Grumbling to herself that it was like damned déjà vu, Darcy dived into Jane’s emails and started mass deleting the Scientific American newsletters with a vengeance.

“Darcy.” 

“What?” she asked as innocently as she could. Playing dumb worked, nine times out of ten.

“Don’t be like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but really, you’ve got–”

She held a finger out in warning. “Don't you dare say potential or I will hide your hiding pop tarts from you.”

Jane sighed and blew some hair out of her face. “Fine. You’re so smart. Smarter than you let on or let yourself be. Darce, you could go back to university and study anything you wanted. You could get a PhD in Political Science if you wanted. Or International Relations? Weren’t you talking of doing that a few months ago? Bailing out of here and going to work for the UN over in Europe where all the hotties are?”

Darcy leaned back and crossed her arms. “I never said that. 

“Yes, you did.”

“Nope.” Denial was and forever would be one of Darcy’s closest friends.

“No, I swear you did…” Jane tapped a finger against her chin. “I didn’t imagine that conversation. I’m sure of it. You were also talking about moving over for…”

“Right there, Jane. That’s why."

Jane screwed up her face. “A bad break up doesn’t mean you can’t go back to studying. Imagine all the breakthroughs that wouldn’t have happened if women had given up their studies because of a relationship ending.”

“Right. But I won’t be making any breakthroughs and I want to finish paying off my current student loans before I go piling more debt onto my plate,” Darcy countered.

“Nice try, but that’s not going to fly with me. I know that you just bought another pair of like shoes and put them on your credit card.”

Darcy felt her eyes go wide. “How the hell did you know that?”

“You wore them to work the other day and wouldn’t shut up about them,” Jane replied with a roll of her eyes. “Now, what’s your next excuse? Come on, I’m ready for it.” 

“Well. Maybe I’m not ready to fill my brain with new information or be near potentially cute boys that can seduce me!” 

“You learn new things every day, it’s part of being human,” Jane retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and looking smug.

“Not like that, Janey and you know it,” she whined back. “I want to stew on what I already know. Yah know? Let the learning marinate for a bit and just chill out. These last two years have been nothing but fucking chaos, if you recall?”

“Yeah, but if you went and got a science degree then you could get a pay rise and a bigger office! I could even argue with HR to make you Lab Manager for all of R&D. Ten floors of the tower for you to boss around and lord over.” 

“Tempting, but you’re still missing the point, Jane.” 

“I get your point, you want to take a break but I’m just choosing to ignore it. I mean, you’re purposefully holding yourself back and it’s so sad to see. So much potential–”

That word. God, it was becoming a trigger for her.

“Jane. I get it, you’re my friend, my sister from another mister and you just want what's best for me. To make sure I stick around as Science Bro. Be a herder of evil genius or genii, I don’t know what the plural is. Look, the point I’m trying to make is that this is not something that I want to do forever, but I’m cool to stick with it for now. I don’t want to worry about the future, okay? I’m focusing on the present and being in the now.”

Jane looked offended. “You got that off the back of one of Bruce’s meditation books.” 

“So?” It was a good book. 

“I can write you a referral letter?” Jane offered weakly. 

“Gah, no Jane.” She emphatically shook her head. “I am sick of people being so serious all the time or thinking that they know what I want to do. I don’t even know what I want for lunch right now, let alone what I want to do for the rest of my life. Hell, I just want to get myself on track and be in a good place and people need to butt out! Tony, you–oh don’t give me that look--and most of all, Babushka needs to stop meddling. It’s my life, my debt, and I will look after myself.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jane held her hands up in surrender. “But, just think about it? We annoy the shit out of you because we care and we want to help.”

“Yeah, yeah. By the way, I cleared out your emails. You’re down to about two hundred out of five thousand now.”

Jane’s shoulders slumped. “Can’t you look at them for me? Please?” 

“Nope. This comes as part of the scientist package. Late night benders, stale food, and lots of emails. So this privilege and joy is all yours, buddy.”

Jane groaned and pulled a chair to the desk because no way could she get through the two hundred emails standing. She clicked on the first email, scrunched up her eyes and started to read it, but her face fell after a few seconds.

“What?” Darcy asked.

“Uh, you’re not gonna like it.”

“What is it?” she prompted.

“Says here that you’ve been signed up to New Recruit Boot Camp.”

“What?” Darcy snorted. “No way. There better be another Darcy working here.”

Jane shook her head.

Darcy sprang up and looked over Jane’s shoulder. There was her name was, listed with the names of other Science Associates that were required to attend a boot camp.

“Compulsory to continue my employment? What the fuck is this shit?”

Jane pointed to a name at the bottom of the email. Darcy followed the dainty fingertip and read the sentence aloud. “Accelerated Defense Course for Darcy Lewis. _At the request of Thor Odinson_?” she was shrieking by the end of the sentence.

Narrowing her eyes, she glanced over at Jane, who regarded her with an apologetic and guarded expression. Good. Yes, good. At least someone knew not to cross her. “Darcy…” she started to say, but stopped, obviously not knowing how to apologise for her space boyfriend’s monumental overstepping of boundaries.

Darcy felt like there was only one suitable course of action from here for her.  With an eerie sense of calm flowing through her, she stood up, stalked over to her bag and pulled out her favourite accessory. “Jane, you don’t want kids, do you?”

“Uh no, why?” 

Darcy turned around, weapon in hand, cartridge reloaded and ready to go. “‘Cause I’m gonna taser him.” She sparked it up for effect. “In the balls.”


	2. 11th August, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta's for this long ass chapter: emmagnetised, Cosmic_Entity_1of4, SlytherinStarkRavingMad and TheStanceyG
> 
> And holy moly the response! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos!

 

**< Avengers Facility, Upper New York>**

Bucky barely heard the _ding_ of the notification over the sound of his feet pounding against the treadmill. Slamming the _Stop_ button, he took the chance to grab a swig of water as the facility-wide memo loaded up onto his phone screen. 

He wasn’t able to gather much from the subject line, other than that a meeting was to be held that afternoon. Opening it up for a better look, he didn’t even make it past the first paragraph. As it’d stated that _only_ Senior Agents with a clearance level of seven or higher were required to attend.

Two things he was not.

Swiping the message away, he brought up treadmills control panel so he that could resume his run. He’d much rather be jogging outside, on a forest trail or even around a city block, but given his status of permanent ~~prisoner~~ unwanted guest that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

No, there was another two years to go before he could go anywhere, since he was the kind of guest that needed an escort whenever he stepped a foot outside his living quarters. That was the price of his _freedom_ ; to spend every second his life under surveillance for the foreseeable future.

Bucky thought he’d be able to handle it, that it wouldn’t be any different to his days behind the glass of a cryotube with Hydra, but most days they treated him like an exotic animal in a zoo. People constantly popping in and out, wanting to catch a glimpse of the infamous _Winter Soldier_.

This left him with a chronically short fuse, and one day he’d just snapped. Pinning an agent to the wall, metal fist hovering above his face, as he lost himself to memories of Hydra days. After that incident, he hadn’t been able to even sneeze without security side-eyeing him. Not that he blamed them for their vigilance.

He was lethal at the best of times, unhinged for the rest. That's what had been stamped all over his file. He knew there would be no easy way to change that—not until they removed the HYDRA conditioning. Until then, he would have to put up with people walking on eggshells around him.

He knew he wasn't the most stable guy around and he understood it warranted the treatment he got, considering the potential for panic attacks and flashbacks if something triggered him. He was working on it, though. Which is why, straight after he finished his work out, he followed his government-issued shadow out of the gym, so he could be escorted over to his therapy session.

Not that he had a choice, but he liked to think he was willingly going into the daily therapy sessions intending to push himself to get better. Because if sitting on the most uncomfortable couch in the world for an hour every day and talking his issues over with a shrink didn’t say he was working on getting his shit together, he didn’t know what else would.

Emerging from his latest session, his mind little more than sludge, he could only nod as Doctor Monroe called out, “Same time tomorrow, Sarge.”

Closing the wooden door behind him, Bucky was so caught up in himself that he almost didn’t spot Steve, who was leaning against the wall a few feet away, until his friend raised a hand to wave at him.

He gave his friend a weak smile in the way of greeting. “How long you been waiting?”

It was normal for Steve to pick him up from these sessions. He’d show up five to ten minutes early, as Bucky sometimes didn’t make it the whole hour. Afterwards, they’d usually hit the gym or go for a jog around the base.

Steve pushed off from the wall and ambled his way over. When he reached his friend he pulled his hand from his pocket to clap Bucky on the back. “Not too long, don’t worry.” His grin dropped into a frown, as his concerned blue eyes studied him. “Doc give you a hard time today?”

Bucky shrugged. “No more than usual. Just some tough memories came up.” He shook his head, hair escaping his bun as he did. “Nothing for you to worry about Steve.”

“Buck—”

“Don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” he joked weakly, trying to change the subject. But the look on Steve’s face made him pause and ask, “What’s wrong?”

Steve chuckled nervously. “Nothing's wrong, Buck.”

He scoffed. “Fess up, Rogers. What’d you do?”

Steve grimaced and scratched at his cheek, a nervous habit that hadn’t changed in over ninety years. “We need to be somewhere.”

It took a moment for Bucky to connect the dots and remember the memo he’d read earlier that day. “You don’t mean that bullshit meeting—” He didn’t even need to finish his question, as one glance at Steve’s face confirmed his suspicion.

“No. Nope. No way, I’m not going.” Bucky shook his head and leaned back against the wall. “I am never going to another meeting with you Steven Rogers, not after the last one.”

The last one had ended in violence and Steve walking away with a black eye (courtesy of Rumlow) in the name of defending Bucky’s honour. Steve at least had the gall to at least look sheepish at the mention of the disaster. “I promise it won’t be like that. But we need to go if we want to make it on time.”

“Right, there’s that ‘we’ thing again.” Bucky gestured back and forth between them. “Funny thing, I seem to recall reading that only Senior Agents needed to go. And would you look at that?” He pointed to the security badge he had to wear at all times. “I’m just a guest, so, sorry punk. I can’t go with you. Guess you’ll have to drop me off at the apartment.”

Steve looked him dead and the eye and said the magic words: “I’ll talk to Stark about getting you a better arm.”

Bucky stilled, biting his lip as he mulled over Steve's offer. He glanced down at the clunky prosthetic.

The clunky prosthetic that had been assigned to him post-capture was an absolute nightmare for him to use. Just another one of those conditions of freedom coming back to bite him in the ass.

Fuck. That punk. Steve knew there was no way that he would turn down the chance for an upgrade.

He crossed his arms over his chest, as he glared at Steve. “Fine,” he agreed sullenly, “but if the meeting goes for hours, I am out of there.”

Steve nodded and they shook on it.

And like that, any plans he’d cooked up for the afternoon were instantly put on the back burner, as he was dragged along to the damned meeting. It pissed him off to no end that he didn’t really have a choice in any of this.

He knew that Steve was just playing nice by bargaining with him and giving him the illusion of options. He was expected to just follow Steve around most of the time; like some well-trained lapdog rather than an ex-Soviet assassin.

He constantly had to remind himself why he did any of it.

He did it for Steve.

For actual freedom.

To get better.

To have his life back.

To escape his past.

To stay out of HYDRA’s clutches.

Those were the reasons and he went through that list in his head multiple times a day. Reminding himself why it was worth it to have a second shadow. Why he let himself be babied and treated like a child.

There were some things, though, that weren’t worth it. Sitting around in a stuffy conference room was one of them.

Bucky was drumming his fingers along the table in a random rhythm, desperately trying to entertain himself, since he was bored out of his mind.

They’d already been waiting for _over_ thirty minutes for the damned meeting to start. His patience was running pretty damned thin at this point, and there was still no sign of the new Avengers Initiative Director (“You may call me Hill, ma’am, or Director, nothing else.”) showing up to the meeting that she’d called for.

He had better things to be doing with his time. Like catching up on the last fifty years of music. He’d only made it to the 60s so far and was keen to power through to the 70s by the end of the month.

His eyes darted up to the clock on the wall. Only five minutes had passed since he’d last looked. “The hell is taking Hill so long?” he grumbled, flopping his head back onto the headrest of his chair.

Beside him, Steve sighed impatiently at him. “Chill, Buck.” Bucky snapped his head back and glared at Steve. Steve glared right back. “She’ll be here soon enough.”

“You said that ten minutes ago.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Enough, Buck. I get it, you don’t want to be here.” Steve sighed again and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, she’s probably just tied up with some paperwork.”

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but Steve shot him a look. “But I’ll send her a text, just in case.” The blonde pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to type a message out.

Bucky grunted, “This is the last time I ever come to one of these meetings with you.”

Steve smirked at him. “You said that last time, too.”

Bucky grunted in reply and promised himself that for Steve’s sake he would give it another five minutes.

With Hill a no-show, and truly at the end of his patience, he decided enough was enough. Grumbling under his breath about punctuality, Bucky started to rise out of his chair, intending to go and grab himself a drink or a snack from the vending machine he’d spotted down the hall near the lifts. Once he was out of sight, he planned to quietly slip away, go back to the apartment, and see if he could catch the rest of the game.

Because by now, he would do almost anything to get out of the room and away from the judgmental gazes of the agents and staff that were gathered in the too-small conference room. Most of them had outright glared at him when he’d first walked in, though the animosity was quickly buried as Steve came in after him.

To say he had a reputation around the base was putting it mildly. Most of the agents in the room had tried to capture The Winter Soldier at one time or another and had the scars and stories that came with it.

His escape plan was stopped short by Steve sticking his leg out, blocking his path. “Move it, punk,” he warned, knocking into Steve’s knees as he continued trying to shuffle past.

Steve simply crossed his arms and quirked a brow. “No.”

“I ain’t askin’.” He clenched his fists and grew more irritated at hearing the high pitched whir of his plastic fist closing. “ _Move_.”

His friend didn't even flinch. “Sit back down, Buck.” Steve jerked his chin towards the empty chair next to him.

“You going to stop a man from needing to take a piss?”

“Seems like you’re already taking the piss, Buck. And no, I don’t really feel like holding your hand while you take care of business. Hill asked me to be here, so I intend to be here for when she arrives.”

Not having the energy to argue, Bucky huffed and flopped himself down in the chair next to Steve.

For a while, he entertained himself with studying the other occupants of the room. Growing bored with that, he started to run through a mental list of ways he could kill someone with a pen. Thirty-six and counting so far.

He only realised that he was murmuring his list out loud when he noticed the surrounding agents subtly shifting away from him. Steve was also kind enough to land a solid hit to his ribs, accompanied by his Trademarked ‘Captain America is Disappointed in You’ look.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky put a lock on his lips, and he recited the list mentally from then on, leaving a heavy silence to fill the room, nothing to be heard but the mocking tick-tock of the clock and the heavy breathing of an out-of-shape agent. Soon enough a chorus of whispers rose up amongst the others in the room. His enhanced hearing made sure that he heard every word.

_“Why is he here? He’s a lab project, not an agent.”_

_“The Captain does it out of pity, you know?”_

_“What if he goes rogue?”_

_“How do we know he isn’t a double agent?”_

_“Can we trust him? Being friends with Cap doesn’t instantly buy forgiveness with everyone!”_

_“Who cares, have you seen his ass?”_

He scoffed at their words and told himself that he didn’t care about what people said or thought about him. He could guarantee that he’d thought of it before them—and it would be nothing compared to the episodes of guilt and self-loathing that he wrestled with on a daily basis.

Bucky assumed that Steve was in the same boat, but a quick glance to his friend beside him told a different story. Steve’s shoulders were hunched in and he’d crossed his arms over his chest. Classic Defensive Steve pose.

He wasn’t surprised when Steve announced to the room at large, “We can hear you,” before slowly turning so that he could glare at those that had been whispering.

Yeah, Steve cared. Too damned much sometimes, and in a way, that’s what bothered him the most.

Not that he could do anything to change it. Coming back from being a murder puppet for seven decades made him a hot commodity. Psychologists and psychiatrists had fought over the exclusive right to poke around inside his head.

His shrink had certainly been enthusiastic at the start of their sessions. Keen to delve into the dark caverns of his mind. That eagerness had quickly washed away upon realising how stubborn Bucky was.

He’d spent more afternoons than he could count doing his best to ignore his thoughts and the memories those sessions had brought to mind. Most of the time he was able to silence them with exerting himself to physical exhaustion but trapped in this room as he was, the best he could do was shift in his seat, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of his chair until it creaked, straining to derail his train of thought.  
  
The sound caught Steve's attention, the blonde’s head snapping up and electric blue eyes locking onto Bucky with an intense focus. This was the look that Steve got whenever he was trying to solve something. How to shoot a target; how to ask out a dame; or trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Bucky refused to acknowledge the brooding concern that was being directed his way. Pretending to inspect the nail of his middle finger, he flipped Steve off.

Steve ignored him and gently nudged his shoulder. “Are you alright, Buck? Did you actually need to go to the bathroom? I thought you were just shit stirring.”

Turning to face Steve, he broke his silence. “I’m fine. Stop your fussin’ alright?” A hint of his Brooklyn accent slipped through in his annoyance.

“I’ll always worry, Buck. Can’t stop that.” Steve was quiet for a moment before leaning forward and adding, “But if you do need anything let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright,” he mumbled.

Seriously, Steve had missed his calling at being a nurse, with how he was always checking in on him and pestering him about taking the cocktails of pills they had him on.

Bucky held back a sigh of relief as Steve remained silent, but the general chatter of the room was now starting to get to him. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he glanced up at the clock and scowled at the time.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell Steve that he was leaving, when Hill finally swanned in.  

He noticed that Steve’s face transformed at the Director’s entrance, eyes darting up and down her body, though whether in appreciation or assessment, Bucky wasn't sure.

He _did_ notice that Hill’s eyes lingered on Steve, and he swore there was a ghost of a smile on her lips, but she soon moved on, taking her place at the head of the table.

Steve nodded at her in greeting before he turned his face away. Bucky still noticed the flush that had spread across Steve’s cheeks upon his eye contact with Hill. Chuckling under his breath, he made a mental note to tease Steve about that later. 

Reaching into her jacket, Hill pulled out a remote and the wall behind her suddenly lit up with an assortment of numbers and graphs that Bucky gazed at blankly. None of it made any sense to him or any of the other people in attendance, his confusion mirrored on their faces.

A tense silence filled the room as Hill started to pace back and forth, assessing the group. Coming to a halt just under the screen, she raised a hand and pointed at one a grouping of numbers. “Would anyone like to hazard a guess as to what these statistics refer to?”

No one raised a hand or made a move to answer.

Bucky slowly raised a metal arm into the air. Hill nodded in his direction looking skeptical. “What Barnes?”

His mouth quirked at the corner. “Steve’s chances of asking a woman out on a date?”

Steve made a strangled sound and a quick glanced to the side confirmed that he'd gone red.

Despite seeing the gears in Hill’s mind turning over, looking for ways she could get away with killing him, he knew it was so worth it for the chance of seeing Steve go pink.

Hill took a deep breath and moved on. He frowned, disappointed that she hadn’t taken the bait. Steve also sent him a glare that promised a lecture later.

“These stats,” Hill pointed to the bars at the end of the table, “are the reason we’re here.”

“Civilian employees suffering injuries, of the lethal variety, including but not limited to: being shot, stabbed, clubbed, and electrocuted have risen by over 150% since Stark Industries and the Avengers Initiative merged and these two entities began working together in the Tower.”

A wave of murmurs and whispers went through the room.

“I know, it doesn’t look great, and it’s made it a nightmare for us with recruiting and insurance, not to mention the media portraying us as one of the most unsafe workplaces in the world,  so we’re introducing a couple of new policies to try and remedy the situation.”

She pointed the clicker to the screen and a new slide came up, filled with statistics and numbers that Bucky didn’t bother to pay any attention to.

“As you can see,” Hill continued on, pacing the length of the room as she spoke, “to keep the Avengers running, we’ve got a small army of support staff on site. And couple that with Stark Industries, at capacity we have about 5000 or so people in the Tower.

Now, we can have them sign all the liability waivers and non-disclosures that we can put in front of them. Unfortunately, they have friends and family who will sue us and no amount of paper will save us. So starting this week, all support staff will be undergoing basic training, which is going to be facilitated by this group.”

Several groans sounded off from around the room.

A smug grin spreads its way across Bucky’s face, as he knew full well that he was expressly forbidden from interacting with any recruits or new staff in general that hadn’t been vetted by Steve and his government authorised shadow.

Tuning out, he pulled out his phone and opened his _Catch Up List_.

He’d worked fastidiously on keeping it current, keeping track of all the things he’d heard about or had mentioned to him. He had so much to catch up on, decades worth. With so many years spent on ice, he felt like he couldn’t afford to waste another second. As it would only mean falling behind again.

Also, if anything relevant to him came up, he was sure that Steve would mention it to him later.

Halfway through updating his list, a message from Steve dropped in.

**[Steve]: Pay attention, I’m not going to save your ass when she kicks it.**

That made him snort, which briefly drew a look from the agent sitting next to him, so he pretend to cough before looking down at his phone again and shooting off a reply which was a feat in itself.  

He was only able to text with his right hand as he’d already cracked three screens trying to use his left. With a lot of concentration and a shit tonne of backspacing, he managed to send off his reply.

**[Bucky]: Too busy checking out Hill’s ass to save mine, hm?**

Message sent back to Steve, he returned to his list until he received another message, this time from Nat.

**[Nat]: You left your water bottle in the gym.**

A GIF followed, which made him snort again.

Hill, of course, had to notice. “Barnes,” she snapped.

He jumped at the sharp voice. Slowly, he raised his eyes and met the glare of a rather pissed off Hill staring down at him. Eyes flashing with the promise of pain, slender arms crossed across her navy blouse and red-soled shoes tapping in impatience.

He gave her his best apologetic grin and made a show of pocketing his phone. For good measure, he mumbled a soft, “Sorry.”

Hill shot him another shrewd look but seemed to accept the apology as she walked back over to the projector and started to shut it down.

Taking a seat at the table, Hill looked down at her tablet and typing for a few seconds. With a definitive tap, she flicked the tablet screen off and looked back up at the room and announced, “Your assignments have been emailed to you.”

A wave of dings and buzzing sounded off. Followed by that, a wave of agents dug into their pockets and pulled out their phones to read over their assignments.

Ignoring the fact that most eyes were glued to their phone screens, Maria still went on with her announcements, “Teams Alpha and Delta, and you will report to the gym tomorrow morning to start training your batch of recruits.”

There were a few grumbles but generally nods of acceptance. Until Hill dropped the next bombshell. “You’re expected to be there by oh-five-hundred-hours.”

That made several heads snap up. There were several cries of, “What?”

“Enough!” Hill slammed her hand against the table. “If I hear one more word of complaint you’ll be scrubbing the toilets with a toothbrush instead. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” was the resounding answer.

Pleased with the response, Hill nodded in approval. “Alright. With all of that done, that concludes—”

The sentence that Bucky had been wanting to hear for the last two hours never reached completion as a large man with long blonde hair barged in. Wearing a red cape to boot and a hammer at his side, the man looked ready for a fight. “Who here might I speak to about a task of the utmost importance?”

Sitting bolt upright, Bucky, tensed his muscles, ready to spring into action. He jolted as Steve’s hand came up and pushed him back into his seat. He glanced over at his friend who shook his head and Bucky, let himself lean back. He would wait for now.

Several of the room's occupants were staring like stunned mullets at the sudden entrance of the man. Even Hill had been surprised at the intrusion, taking a few seconds to recover.

Clearing her throat, Hill made to get up out of her seat. “Thor?”

“Yes, I am Thor Odinson.”

Steve started to rise up from his chair. “What’re you doing here?”

Thor’s face nearly split in two from the broad smile that spread across his face when he spotted his fellow Avenger. “Ah, Steven,” he cried as he marched up to Steve and pulled him up into a hug. “It is wonderful to see a familiar face,” he said as he pulled back from the embrace and settled his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “Tell me, my friend, do you know where I might find the Leader of the Avengers Warriors?”

Steve furrowed his brows. “Uh—”

Thor turned away from Steve and walked over to stand beside the windows. “I was told to look for a Hill but I have not been able to find one,” Thor gestured to the vast expanse of green lawn that lay on the other side of the glass.

Taking her cue, Hill stepped in and cleared her throat. “I'm Maria Hill.”

Thor spun around to face the stone-faced brunette. “My lady, I believe we have met before, but nonetheless it still a pleasure to remake the acquaintance.” Thor bowed his head, before jerking bolting upright and grabbing Hill by the shoulders. “I need assistance your assistance, Lady Hill, in arranging a noble endeavour.”

Steve lowered himself back into the chair and sat back to watch. Bucky leaned over to Steve and whispered, “I thought he’d be taller...and smarter.”

Steve shot him a warning look, before his blue eyes, full of worry, darted back to Hill, who was keeping her cool despite the blonde encroaching upon her. “Right. Can you be a bit more specific?” asked Hill, who looked like she was struggling to keep her cool.

“Yes.” Thor nodded enthusiastically and went on, “the Man of Iron has granted me guidance and directed me to speak to you about my quest.” A look of confusion clouded his expression, “Human Resources he called it? A rather odd name if you ask me.”

Hill frowned. “Tony told you to look for me?”

Thor beamed. “Yes, he certainly did, Lady Hill.”

Taking a deep breath, Hill, turned to the agents that were still in their seats and staring at Thor in wonder. “Alright, it might be better if you came in and sat down so we can discuss this.” She indicated for Thor to take a chair before addressing the rest of the room. “Everybody else that isn’t Thor or Steve, out!”

“Oh no, Lady Hill, I couldn’t impose,” Thor protested which had people pausing in their chairs. “Just tell me who the finest warrior in the room is?”

All heads turned toward Steve. Though Bucky could feel a few eyes on himself.

Hill rubbed a hand over her face. “Out, now,” she whispered, but everyone could hear the frustration.

There was a rustling of clothes and clanking of metal, followed by a stampede as the agents headed out. Thinking it was also his chance to escape, Bucky started to get up but halted in place as he caught Maria’s eye. “Not you.”

Reluctantly he slid back into his chair, all the while trying to ignore the smug snickers coming from Steve. “Punk,” he muttered under his breath.

Thor hadn’t bothered to grab a seat though. Instead, he walked up to the table, set his hammer down and observed them. “Steven you are my Avenging brother, but this man beside you seems quite fearsome.”

Bucky frowned at the same time Thor smiled and pointed at him. “This man. He shall be the one to complete this quest.”

Hill rolled her eyes. “Barnes won’t be doing anything, Thor. Someone has already been assigned to your request, Thor. Didn't you get the email? Or did they send it to you via snail mail?”

“No. I haven't received any snails.” The confused look was back. Thor in his obliviousness went on to add,  “I have to say Midgard is quite silly for using such a slow means of sending messages. On Asgard-”

“It was a joke, Thor,” Steve supplied, keen to help someone else who didn’t always ‘get it’.

“Ah, very funny,” Thor chortled, hand over his heart. “But I am afraid that I am not sure what you mean that my request has already been fulfilled?”

“Tony sent the form in. Speaking of,” Maria pulled up her phone, made a few swipes before looking up at Steve, “Here's the paperwork Captain. You’ve been assigned to follow up with this. Thor can brief you.”

Thor sputtered. “But I require the finest warrior available to train my Shield Sister.”

“And Cap is the best we have,” Maria said, steely note full of such sweetness that Bucky felt his teeth rotting from it. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to…” She looked down her nose at the weapon still resting on the table. “To hammer out the details, as it were.”

With that, Hill showed herself out. Leaving the three mean awkwardly hanging around the table.

Thor was the first to break the silence. “We’d best begin devising a plan, Steven.”

“Right…” Steve heaved a sigh and slumped back into his chair. “What exactly are we planning?”

Thor’s brows furrowed. “I thought that you were aware of the quest, my friend.”

Seeing an opportunity, Bucky started to get up out of his own seat. “I guess I don’t need to be here for this so I’ll just–”

“Buck,” Steve said, tone full of warning.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered and threw himself back down. He was really fucking over this by now.

Steve was just as agitated from the look on his face, as he pulled out his phone out and put it down on the table without bothering to read the email Hill had sent. He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “So who exactly am I going to be training?” he asked looking at Thor.

Thor stepped around the table to clap Steve on the shoulder. “Ah, you will be training my Lightning Sister.” Thor looked like he was bursting with pride. “She is a fine Shield Maiden and one of the fiercest--”

_“Thor!”_

Bucky whipped his head around to look at the door. No one else was there, but he swore that he’d heard something. Looking back to the other two men, he saw that Thor had a pained expression painted across his face.

Steve also wore an apprehensive mien. “What was-”

_“THOR!”_

Bucky definitely heard it that time. An enraged female voice. Or maybe a banshee’s cry, given that the God of Thunder was in the room. The blonde had winced at the shout.

Clearing his throat, Thor moved back around to the other side of the table. “Right, that is the sign that I must depart this gathering.”

Steve leapt up and followed in the steps of the Norseman. “Whoa, Thor. You still haven’t told me--”

“ _Thor Odinson!”_  

Bucky rose from his chair that time, the shriek sending a chill down his spine.

“My apologies, but I  must be going.” Thor started to back up towards the door. “Thank you, Captain, for taking on this noble quest–”

Steve lunged and grabbed Thor’s wrist. “Wait, a damned minute. Who am I training?”

 _“You can run but you can’t hide, Thor!”_ Thor paled and looked like death itself was chasing him. Maybe it really was a Banshee.

“As you can hear I am being called…” Thor said weakly, extracting his hand from Steve’s grip and stepping into the hall. Steve followed and Bucky huffed in annoyance as he made chase after the two blondes.

 _“Thor, you are dead!”_ the screech was getting closer was so close now.  

Bucky was able to catch up to the two blondes in a few strides. Steve and Thor were currently having a face-off and blocking off the majority of the hallway. Steve caught Bucky’s eye over Thor’s metal-covered shoulders and gave a subtle nod. Bucky nodded back, catching the meaning of the look.

He hovered just behind the broad back of the Norseman, ready to back up Steve in case the god tried to flee again.

“Seriously, Thor. You’ve got to give me a name,” Steve insisted, tugging at his hair in frustration

Thor shook his head. “There are no words I can use to describe—”

_“There you are!”_

Thor sprang to the side, moving faster that Bucky’d thought possible. Just as a streak of brown curls dashed past, tripping over and colliding with Bucky. His automatic reflex had him reaching out, to catch the woman and stop her from hitting the floor.

As soon as his arm touched her, though, his body went as stiff as a board.

“ _Buck!”_ shouted Steve at the same time the Banshee let loose a mighty shriek.

Fire coursed through him and he fell to his knees, as his legs were unable to support him. The muscles of his thighs spasming uncontrollably. He face-planted as his legs gave out all together. His nerves were on fire. There were bees under his skin as he buzzed with pain.

He had no idea what had just happened and he was starting to panic. It felt like the electricity that had coursed through him whenever he was in The Chair.

Fuck.

 _HYDRA_. They’d come for him.

Bucky closed his eyes and started trying to muster some strength to fight back, but his body refused to comply. There was no way in hell he was going to be taken back alive. God, he would rather die before going back there, and with the trouble he was starting to have with breathing that might be the case.

Not that he was going to be able to put up much of a fight either. PTSD had his body shutting down, going into a paralytic state until the danger passed. That had been one of the hypnotic conditioning that had been installed once he’d been handed over to Steve, as to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt anyone if he had an episode.

It just didn’t help if he was being dragged back to work for the evil Nazi nutters.

 _“Buck!_ ” he heard Steve call out, his voice sounding so distant, it was a strain to make out any of the other words.

Fuck, they must have gotten Steve, too. No, he couldn’t let them take his friend. His panic was brought to a halt as he heard a soft voice whisper, “Oh God. Oh shit. I wasn’t aiming for you, I swear. I was trying to get Thor’s nuts.”

_Wait._

_What?_

_“Bucky? Buck? Can you hear me?”_

Using what little control he had, Bucky was able to turn his head. A cloud of brown curls danced above him. It smelt like lavender. There was also incessant babble of, “I’m so sorry, dude. Hey, you alive?” Then something prodded his shoulder. “Are you alright? Do you need CPR? Are you breathing?”

He tried to say something back, but his tongue wouldn’t work. His jaw was clamped shut, muscles incapable of moving. Unable to form words, he settled for grunting in reply.

“Don’t worry my Lightning Sister, the Winter Warrior is still—”

Thor was cut off by the loud, resonating sound of flesh against flesh. Bucky would bet anything that Thor had just been slapped by the Banshee.

“No, nah-uh. You don’t get to talk to me, God of Overstepping Boundaries.” The Banshee was scolding Thor from the sound of it. “Also, totally your fault that dude got the taser.”

At least that confirmed what had hit him. While his memory was like swiss-cheese half the time, one thing that his body did not forget over the years he’d been a prisoner with HYDRA was the pain of having electricity running through him. It always left his body in convulsions, twitching wildly. Even now, he was still having trouble regaining control.

In particular, he could feel the prosthetic trying to calibrate itself—the mechanics not able to compute the twitches and spasm messages that were been sent through the wires and cables that were hooked up to his nervous system.

“I swear that I was aiming for Thor and—” There was a high pitched squeal. “Oh god, what the hell is that thing? Is it his— _Ah!_ Make it stop.”

Another jolt of fire ran through him, the hit directly pulsing through his left shoulder this time.

“Fuck, sorry, dude,” said the feminine voice, sounding thin and reedy with distress.

“Miss, please give him some room,” ordered Steve’s voice. Then familiar large hands were against his back and helping him roll over into the recovery position.

“ _I’m not doing this on purpose, I swear!”_ Her words were fuzzy, like there was cotton in his ears.

“What the hell?” was all he was able to groan out before he let himself fall into darkness.


	3. 11th August, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smol chapter, sorry, not a biggie, but a nice snarky Darcy chapter :) 
> 
> Thanks again to betas: emmagnetised, Cosmic_Entity_1of4, SlytherinStarkRavingMad and TheStanceyG
> 
> Dedication to: Bahowle
> 
> p.s feel free to stop by tumblr and say hi: skyforgedsoul.tumblr.com

**< Hallway, Avengers Facility>**

Upon reflection, Darcy realised that shouting out ‘ _There you are’_ was not the smartest move. She hadn’t really been thinking straight. Focused on getting her revenge, as soon as she’d spotted Thor she started to charge, taser in hand, ready to give the God of Lightning a taste of his own element.

Then before she could blink or understand what had happened, Thor had dodged out of the way and Hobo guy had been on the receiving end of her taser—an enhanced taser that was at maximum charge and designed to take down a God. Not a human. Oops?

She also had no idea where Hobo-Man had come from. Maybe from the shadows or even another realm for all she knew. Although he had actually been right in front of her the whole time and she’d just failed to spot him. Because apparently her vision was shit and she was a tad unobservant.

The Hobo dude was alive though, thank Odin. The bigger miracle was that she hadn’t hit Captain America with the second shot, when she’d gotten freaked out by Hobo dude’s arm twitching around.

As soon as she’d fired it off, she’d opened her mouth to apologise but she’d been cut off by the Captain as he pushed her back, and knelt down beside the Hobo, whispering quietly to him and stroking his hair?

Huh. Wasn’t something that you saw everyday, but it wasn’t the best time to be nosey, so she took a substantial step back, and was met with a  wall of muscle. Looking up she was met with a familiar pair of remorseful blue eyes. “Lightning Sister,” Thor whispered, “we best leave the Captain and his friend alone to recover.”

She frowned. “I don’t think that—”

“Thank you, Thor,” Steve said, without even looking over his shoulder at them, his attention focused on Hobo, who was still on the ground, twitching randomly every now and then. 

Thor put a hand on her shoulder and started to turn her away. Biting her lip, she looked back to the Hobo still lying on the floor and felt her stomach try and do the Macarena. Her conscience was also less than impressed and was banging against the side of her head, screaming at her to do something, to say something.

“I am sorry,” she blurted out. “That I, uh, fried your friend.”

 _Fuck. Fried? Poor word choice, Lewis,_ she admonished herself. Sighing, she twisted her hands together and forced herself to speak up again. “What I mean is if you need help or anything, just let me know.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” was all she got.

Darcy knew that she’d been dismissed.

Not wanting to hang around the scene of her crime for any longer, she let Thor continue to steer her down the hallway, all the while hoping that Hobo guy was going to be alright. Not because she felt guilty either; but more so that he wouldn't try and get revenge, because knowing her luck, as a friend of Captain America he was going to be some psycho assassin.

Which was all the more reason to actually go through with the stupid Self-Defense Course bullshit that Thor had signed her up for. Thinking of which…

“Oh, Thorrrrrrrrr—”


	4. 11th August, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by: Cosmic Entity 1 of 4 and emmagenetised  
> Alpha: Bahowle
> 
> What did you like? Any thing you hate let me know. I love feedback ♡
> 
> I hope yall enjoy the triple update ^_^

**[11th August 2014]**

**< Avengers Facility, Upper New York>**

Bucky gritted his teeth and poured all of his concentration into not killing the owner of the head of dark brown hair that was hovering over his left shoulder.

“This would be a lot easier if you didn't have resting murder face aimed at me while I was going this,” Tony muttered in annoyance as he tugged at a red wire.

When it didn't budge, Tony tugged at the wire harder until it came loose, making Bucky jolt as he did. “Goddamnit, stay still, Terminator.”

“If you weren’t trying to pull my arm off, I would,” he replied through clenched teeth.

Tony snapped his head up to glare at him. “Do you want me to fix this arm up or not?”

“Yes, he does,” Steve chimed in from the sidelines. “ _And_ he appreciates you going to the trouble of upgrading you while you’re at it, Tony.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Tony grumbled under his breath before flipping his welding mask back down as he got back to work on the prosthesis that Bucky hadn’t been able to move since being tasered.

Leaving him with no choice but to sit there and let Stark tinker to his heart’s content. It was the billionaire’s fault in the first place that he was stuck with this arm. He’d originally been assigned a wooden prosthetic when his parole had been granted and he hadn’t minded it. The simplicity of it made he much less of a threat and made him more confident that he could be taken down if need be.

Stark had taken issue with the ‘ _out-dated, ancient—no, prehistoric contraption that gives me splinters just from looking at it_ ’. And after weeks of pestering and snide remarks Bucky had finally given in and let Stark upgrade his arm, which is what left him in this mess.

Bucky heaved a heavy sigh as Tony fired up the welding torch again, forcing him to turn his face as the sparks started to fly. His eyes fell on Steve, and as much as he tried to make eye contact with his friend, the blonde was focused on a motorcycle magazine he’d picked up from a random bench in Tony’s workshop.

He’d been unable to convey how pissed off he was with his friend yet. He appreciated the save and all but he was more than capable of speaking for himself and it pissed him off to no end that Steve still took it upon himself to make decisions for him.

Like when he’d come to in the chair. He’d figured that he would wake up at home, in his apartment, but Steve had taken it upon himself to drag him down to Tony’s workshop and arranged for Stark to fix his arm and also work on some upgrades while he was at it.

Waking up to the sound of a drill humming had triggered a flashback and all hell had broken loose. Limbs flailing around, and full of adrenaline, he’d been ready to fight his way out. It’d taken a few seconds for the familiar faces in his hazy line of vision to come into focus.

_“It’s alright, Buck. You’re safe, you’re free. It’s Steve. It’s 2014.”_

Steve.

_“Why don’t you just remind him of his used by date while you’re at it?”_

Tony.

He’d shut his eyes and let himself fall back into the chair.

 _Safe_. At the Avengers base. Not coming out of cryo.

Post-freakout, he’d calmed down enough for Tony to get back to work on his arm.

Once his arm was reattached, he found the upgrade to only be minor. A few adjustments made to the movement and speed of the appendage, but it still felt clunky and out-dated. He begrudgingly said his thanks and made his way back to his apartment.

By which he actually shuffled his away home, leaning on Steve the whole way, his whole body drained of energy. As soon as he was in the door he made his way to his room and promptly collapsed onto the covers, ignoring Steve’s shouts about him needing food and water.

He was grateful that sleep came swiftly, the tide of unconscious rising up to sweep him away. He just hoped there wouldn’t be any nightmares.


	5. 12th August 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by: Cosmic Entity 1 of 4 and emmagenetised  
> Alpha: Bahowle
> 
> What did you like? Any thing you hate let me know. I love feedback ♡
> 
> I hope yall enjoy the triple update ^_^

******< Avengers Facility, Upper New York>**

He woke up the following morning feeling rather refreshed. 

A quick glance at the clock explained why. It was actually afternoon and he'd slept for a solid  _twelve_ hours. Quite the anomaly, as he normally only averaged three to for hours a night—the minimum amount needed to keep him functioning.

A closer inspection of his alarm clock revealed why he'd slept for so long: his alarms had been disabled. "Damnit, Steve," he cursed as he rolled out of bed to get a start on the day before any more of it went to waste. 

He charged out of his bedroom, ready to give his friend a piece of his mind, only to find that the blonde had been gone for hours by. Making a promise to himself, that he would have words with Steve about it later, he started to make plans on how to spend the remainder of the afternoon. Which turned out to involve sitting in front of the oversized TV that took up the whole wall of the apartment.

He even went the extra mile and made up a bowl of popcorn for himself. Testing out the dexterity of his left arm by opening the bag and pushing the buttons on the microwave. It took three goes for him to hit the right numbers. 

With the bowl full of buttery goodness ready to go, he plopped himself down in the middle of the couch and let himself sink into the cushion that felt like it was a damned cloud. Reaching over for the remote, he started the complicated process of turning all of the electronics on. With the screen coming to life, he started to flick through the channels.

Cartoons, documentaries, and sports of every kind flashed before him but nothing appealed.

Instead, he found himself full of jittery energy. He couldn’t sit still and focus; a damned live wire had been lit in his brain. He wanted to move, he wanted to be doing something, _anything_. What, was the question, as his options were quite limited.

A glance outside the floor to ceiling windows revealed it was a gorgeous day outside, sunshine and clear skies. Perfect for a jog or target practice, not that he could put a toe out the front door without setting off a dozen alarms that were all attuned to his ‘biological signature’ or whatever Banner called it.

It meant that, without Steve to act as his escort, he was as good as grounded. He was forbidden from leaving the apartment without Steve or the Government Shadow as a chaperone.

He knew that he should be channelling the restless energy into something productive, like trying to catch up on the years of media he’d missed. There was still so damned much that he had to catch up on; seventy years worth of culture and technology.

At times the sheer volume of it overwhelmed him, and he wanted to give up. He couldn’t just stop though, as he would just fall even further behind then, which would really send him insane.

Looking up at the ceiling, Bucky asked, “How much longer has Steve got in training, Jarvis?”

“ _Another two hours, Mr Barnes_ ,” responded the AI in his usual pomp and proper English accent.

Bucky threw his head back and groaned. What the hell was he meant to do for two hours? Die of boredom at this rate. He knew he was acting like a brat; there were a million things he could do to occupy himself, but none of it was appealing to him.

“Hey, Jarvis?” he called out, “What is there to do around here? You have any suggestions?”

 _“If you require stimulation, Mr Barnes, I can always put on some music or I can download an instructional guide to Yoga? The one that Dr Monroe suggested perhaps?”_ Jarvis’ voice chimed in again.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he replied. 

_“Perhaps you would like to watch a documentary? Or I can order you some take-out?”_

“No.” 

“ _Well then, if you refuse every option presented to you, I am not sure how I can be of assistance, Mr Barnes. What exactly would you like to do?”_

 Bucky swore he could hear a note of annoyance in the electronic butler’s voice. 

“To get out of this shoebox,” he muttered under his breath.

“ _I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment, Mr Barnes, you are on restricted—”_

“I know! Don’t remind me,” he yelled up at the ceiling. He didn’t need another fucking reminder that he was simply in a fancy prison.

_"You seem a bit distressed, Mr Barnes. Should I call Agent—”_

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “No need to get anyone, Jarvis.”

“ _Very well, Mr Barnes.”_

With that, there was silence. Leaving Bucky alone in his thoughts again.

He tried to distract himself again, with rubik’s cubes, puzzles and the sudoku crap that Steve was preaching to him about, but still, nothing would quiet his restlessness.

He was on the cusp of asking Jarvis to pass a message on to Sam to see if the Pidgeon would act as an escort, just to get him out of this damned gilded cage, but the thought of the smug smile across the man’s face dissuaded him.

 _I could sneak out. Go to the gym and check out the recruits? Thor wanted me to teach them as well anyway,_ he reasoned with himself. 

So Bucky got busy with disabling all of the alarms that he knew of and then raiding Steve’s room to find the passcodes to disable the rest. For over ninety damned years the punk used the same hiding spot for important things: the bottom drawer of the bedside table inside the grossest sock imaginable.

Rolling out the thread-bare, gray-with-age sock, Bucky found the passcodes written out neatly in Steve’s ever-familiar chicken scratch. He grinned as he read over the numbers that had been used. Sarah Rogers’ birthday and his own. 

Leaping up, he hoofed it over to the built-in wall terminal, brought up the security program and logged in.

_“Mr Barnes, might I inquire as to why you’re logging into the mainframe with Mr Rogers’ credentials?”_

“Nothing for you to worry about, Jarvis. Keep on computing and ignore me.”

_“I’m sorry, but I am under strict instructions not to ignore you or your needs, Mr Barnes. Was there something that I can assist with? If you are trying to contact Mr Rogers, I can—”_

“Nah, don’t worry about that,” he said, punching in the last couple of digits, and hearing the  _ping_ of the system accepting the override. “I’m going to actually pop down and pay him a visit myself.”

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, Bucky grabbed a hoodie and made his way over to the front door. This was it: _freedom_.

Bucky hesitated for a brief second, as the image of Steve’s disappointed face came to mind. Crossed arms, big frown, and the sad eye. Bucky knew the words ‘broken trust’ would get thrown around. The image was quickly shoved to the back of his mind. 

He just found the allure of fresh air too tempting. Some days it felt like he’d traded in one cell for another, escaping HYDRA only to become a prisoner in his own home.

Deciding it would be worth the lecture later, he pushed the front door open and crept out of the apartment.

About halfway down the hall, he came to a halt as he spotted the familiar watch station that was manned by the weekend shift, government-issued babysitter. Bucky held his breath as he crept closer, exhaling sharply as he came to within a foot or two of the guard.

He tensed his legs, getting ready to bolt for the elevators and outrun the watchdog, when a loud snort made him pause.

 _No_. There was no way...oh, but there was.

The guard was sleeping on the damned job. Hell, Bucky could see there was a small drool patch was forming on his shoulder.

Bucky felt the tension in his chest easing up at the realisation that he wasn't going to get caught red-handed. Rounding the corner, the elevator came into his line-of-sight and he booked it.

Once he made it into the elevator, he hit the button for Sub-Basement two and waited.

The lift didn't budge. 

He leaned over and hit the SB2 button again. Still, nothing happened. Grumbling under his breath about stupid technology, Bucky was about to try the button for the third time when the doors began to slide open.

“The hell?” he asked aloud.

“ _You do not have permission to leave this floor, Mr Barnes. Please feel free to exit the elevator in your own time_ ,” replied Jarvis in his ever polite voice.

“I’m not leaving,” he snapped back stubbornly, not liking that he was being controlled by the AI.

“ _If you don’t return to your quarters, Mr Barnes, then I am afraid that I will have to alert—”_  

“Jarvis, buddy. Look, I am going stir crazy being stuck in that apartment all day. I am still in the building, and you will be watching me the whole time. So if anything goes wrong you can put out an alert, but I need to get out of this place. Consider it necessary for my well being?”

“ _I am not sure if this reasoning is applicable to this situation, Mr Barnes. You are supposed to be escorted by an authorised Agent or the Captain.”_

“Right. However, I'm already out of the apartment so the only reasonable course now is to find Steve. By you preventing me from finding and being escorted by Steve, you're actually the one breaking the rules...” he reasoned, hoping that his patchy logic would appeal to the AI.

It seemed to work, as the doors slid shut and the lift finally moved.

The elevator made several stops along the way, people getting in and out: some nodded at him and others looked downright terrified in his presence, no doubt wondering where Steve was and why Bucky was out and about on his own. 

A steely glare had them scuttling out at the next floor.

Not caring if he got reported, he continued to make his way down to the gym, grateful that he was the only one in the lift for the rest of the way down. With the soft _ding_ announcing that he’d reached his floor, Bucky stepped out and made his way down the maze of corridors and was a little ways from the entrance of the gym when he froze.

The door had swung open and Hill strolled out. She walked right past him and didn’t even spare him a glance. She continued down the hall at a casual pace, heels clicking away. 

Just as the door started to swing shut, Steve came charging out.

Steve stood there like an idiot for about three seconds, looking confused as hell at seeing Bucky there. He opened his mouth, no doubt about to ask him what hell he was doing there when, “I’m not going to wait all day for you Captain.”

Bucky heard his friend gulp, as his eyes moved up to Hill who was still walking away, or maybe it was her ass if the tripping over his feet and angle of his sight were anything to go by.

Chuckling to himself at the sight of his friend acting like such a muppet, Bucky almost missed his chance at sneaking in. He waited until Steve was out of sight and made sure the coast was clear, then snuck in through the door to the gym.

Hanging back, he stuck to the shadowy edges along the walls. Five minutes into observing, he had to admit the group wasn’t half bad. A lot of work would have to go into making them decent but he had to remind himself that they were only support staff, not spies or assassins.

Studying the defense forms, he spotted Clint correcting someone’s footwork and Natalia prowling around, green eyes assessing and calculating as she watched her students. Bucky knew that she would be taking mental notes on all the students, seeing what areas most needed work and what their strengths and weaknesses were. He nodded in approval when she stepped in to scold someone’s push up form. 

They did have their work cut out for them, Clint and Natasha, getting this many up to scratch on the timeline that Hill had given them. Counting out the lines of staff, he stopped and did a recount. There were forty-nine. He swore that there was meant to be one more. 

His question of the missing pupil was answered when Thor bounded into the Gym a second later. “Greetings fellow warriors, friends and future shieldmates!” 

Someone else had come in with Thor, and only once the big chunk of Asgardian shifted was Bucky able to take them in. And the first thing he noticed about the newcomer was that _they_ were, in fact, a _she_.  

The second observation Bucky made was that she was a _dame_. No, she was _more_ than that.

She was a bombshell blast from the past. A vision of 1940’s standing right before him, with more curves than a backcountry road. His eyes hungrily traced over the contours of her body, appreciating the resemblance to a Coca-Cola bottle. When she turned to face him, he knew that he was done for, as he greedily took in the cornflower blue eyes magnified by the glasses, red lips and killer hips.   

After a few seconds of staring, Bucky came back to himself, realising that he’d stuck an unknowing foot forward. He furrowed his brow as he looked at the dame again.

She was familiar. Somehow.

Her face? No, it was the hair. He could have sworn that he’d seen that curly chaos around somewhere before. He still wasn’t able to place where he knew her from after a few seconds of studying the dame, he did come to another conclusion though. Layered in with the recognition there was desire.

A desire to be close to her, to touch her—which threw him for a six.

Physical attraction was still something that was slowly coming back to him. Being on suppressants for seventy plus years had put a dent in his drive. This dame was just the thing, though, to kick it back into gear.

Seeming to sense that someone was watching her, the dame spotted him, at the back of the room--and the attraction stopped right there and then. “Nobody told me Jesus was part of the Avengers,” she exclaimed, pointing a heavily ringed finger at him.

He winced at her voice and realised where he knew her from. She was the damned Banshee that had been screeching up a storm about Thor. She was also the genius that had tasered him and fucked up the electronics in his arm. 

His frown deepened as he saw that she was still staring at him. He narrowed his eyes and squinted at her until she looked away, cheeks ablaze. Someone must not have taught her that it was rude to stare. Feeling the back of his neck prickle, Bucky scanned the rest of the gym and saw that now near all of the recruits were trying to covertly spare a glance or two in his direction.

Soon enough, Thor noticed something other than himself had captured the attention of the room, he turned to observe what was causing the fuss. A giant grin spread across the blonde’s face when he spotted Bucky. “Ah. Warrior James,” he boomed from across the floor, “it is wonderful to see you! I am glad to see you are well, after being felled by my Lightning Sister. Please, come and join us.”

Feeling like he was in a fish bowl, and wanting to get the attention off himself as quickly as possible, Bucky slunk over. Hunching his shoulders and letting his hair fall in his face to hide from the scrutiny of all the eyeballs passing over him.

Once he reached Thor, the dame’s face became ever paler and her blue eyes widened in fear. When she met his gaze, she flicked her eyes to the ground and started to gnaw at her lip. Bucky was about to introduce himself when the dame blurted out, “ _I’msorrythatItasedyou_.”

Bucky blinked. “Sorry?” She’d spoken so fast he wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said.

Taking in a deep breath and seeming to purposefully raise her chin, in a show of defiance, she met his eye. “I’m sorry that I tased you instead of Thor. But to be fair, you got in the way.”

“Excuse me?”

Thor cleared his throat and brought a burly arm around to rest of the dame’s shoulder. “Sister,” he began, sounding cautious, “perhaps you should—”

She ignored the god and ploughed ahead, voice shrill and hands on her hips. “Dude, I’ve said sorry like two times now. Do you really want me to apologise again or are you just being a dick? Which wouldn’t surprise me because you look a lot like Jesus. And it wouldn’t surprise me if Thor knew Jesus.” She looked up at the blonde and gestured towards Bucky. “Is he a fellow son of a God?”

Bucky was with Thor on this, his own face probably matching the god’s confused and contorted expression. For one, he had no idea what the dame was on about and second, did she seriously think that he got in the way on purpose. Third, did she realise who he was?

First, to break the heavy silence, Thor said, “I am not sure who this Jesus is…” The dame rolled her eyes at him, but the golden-haired god went on, “But Sister Darcy it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Winter Warrior. He is a new friend and member of the Avengers.”

Darcy. So that was the dame’s name. It sounded nice enough, but he didn’t get to think on it much longer as she spoke up again. “Right. You sure this dude isn’t like your homeboy Jesus? Fellow son of a god, bro?”

He crossed his arms and gave her a hard look. “M’ name’s not Jesus, it’s James,” he grumbled.

“This is correct, Lady Darcy. I do not know anybody by the name of Jesus,” Thor said, still looking quite bewildered.

“Look.” She pushed her glasses down as she looked him up and down with sky blue orbs. “If you're in witness protection from the Romans given what happened last time, I get it. I won't blow your cover, Jesus-James.”

Bucky growled. Literally. He was sick of being called Jesus already. And he opened his mouth to prove just how much he was a damned Christian martyr when she cut in again. “Whoa. You have a metal arm. I thought that just your hand was metal. That would explain why your arm was spazzing out. Still, you’re like Cyborg Jesus!”

She leaned in for a closer look, curiosity shining in her eyes. She looked quite cute, Bucky hated to admit, but the proximity to his arm made him twitchy, so turned away from her, pulling his left arm back and yanking his sleeve down over his hand to hide it.

With her eyes still fixed on the metal that was barely visible, she breathed out, “Can I touch it?” her hand extended and ready to touch his arm.

He flinched away. “No.”

Darcy backed up a step, putting her hands up in front of her. “Chill, my dude. I only wanted to touch.”

Clint coughed in an attempt to cover up his laugh, but Natasha outright chuckled at the comment, ignoring the dark look that Bucky threw her way. Thor glanced back and forth between Darcy and Bucky, still looking quite puzzled.

The girl at least had the social graces to look sheepish at her outburst and mumbled out, “Sorry dude, you really do look like a hot Jesus, and I mean, if that’s insulting to you because you’re like Jewish or whatever other religion, totally my bad and I’m sorry.”

His eye twitched as she continued to ramble. Such mindless prattle had never annoyed him before; he’d always been able to tolerate Steve going off on tangents whenever he needed to vent about a bad day or had to think out loud, but there was just something about this woman that set him on edge and made him grind his teeth when she spoke.

Giving a jerky nod in acknowledgement of her mini-speech, Bucky stalked off to the sidelines and snagged himself a seat at the back of the observation area.

Thor was now surrounded by recruits, asking him about Asgard and if he was there to train them. Nat and Clint had taken the spare moment to go through some files, murmuring to each other in low voices. With everyone doing their own thing, it left one out.

Darcy. The dame that was fast-tracking her way onto his hate list.

Casting his eyes around, he saw she was walking over to him.

_Fuck._

“Hey, James,” she said with a wave, moving to take a seat a few feet away from him.

Looking her up and down again, he was almost pulled under the spell of attraction. Up close he couldn’t deny that she was fucking gorgeous and the exact type of gal that he would’ve gone for back in the day. If she had been from his era though, no doubt she probably would have had better manners. Call him old-fashioned, but first impressions still meant a lot to him and he wasn’t a fan of this woman.

So it was a stretch to be civil in his reply. He managed to look her in the eye and ask, “What do you want?” He winced, hearing himself snarl.

The girl stuck her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Nothing. Just wanted to come over and say hi.” She shot him a warm smile that quickly died off when he didn’t return the gesture.

He grunted in reply.

“Okay, then…no need to say it back or anything. Not like it's polite.”

Bucky glared at her as he replied with a deadpan, ”Hello.” He figured it would just be easier to reply than have her nagging him.

“So you know Captain America? How long you two been bro’s?”

“Eighty years.”

“Whoa. You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Being frozen will do that,” he said back, struggling to keep his voice even.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he did enjoy watching her face drain of colour and her eyes bulge as his words seemed to sink in. She appeared to be unsure what to say for a second and he hoped that maybe, the conversation would end there, of course, luck never did favour him. “Um, new topic. How do you make your hair so shiny?”

“I wash it.”

“Dude, I mean what do you use?”

“Water, shampoo and conditioner.”

“Right. What brand?”

He shrugged.

“Dude. How can you not know?”

He shrugged again.

“Gah. Fine. What do the bottles look like?”

He turned to give her a look. Why the fuck was she still talking to him? Couldn't she take a hint?

Darcy stared right back at him, her blue eyes sparkling with determination. “Well? Are they blue? Small? Tall? Round? Pump action? What does it smell like?”

He remained quiet. Not liking the silence, the dame decided to get her own answers as she leaned into him and sniffed him? Bucky recoiled, backing away from her and giving her a slit-eyed glare.

She threw her hands up. “Dude, don’t look so weirded out. I’m just trying to smell your hair.”

He knew that during his time as the Winter Soldier, that he'd done a lot of bad things. Torture and death were the least of what he deserved. But sitting here? Listening to this woman talk to him in her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice? It was a new level of pain.

“Do I have to sneak into your shower and find out?”

He scoffed at her and shook his head, but still didn’t answer. He was enjoying how frustrated this made her. If she was going to call him fuckin’ Jesus, he could take a vow of holy silence.

“Alright, fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “Keep your hair secrets. Don’t tell me. Not like I need to know anyway.”

He thought after that she had gotten the message: he wasn’t interested in talking. Wrong. Instead, she continued to throw questions at him, hardly finishing one sentence before she asked another.

“You know you’ve got a really bad case of resting bitch face. You notice that?”

“Are you legit just a grumpy old man? Like one hundred years of ‘tude has just settled in?”

“So, your arm. That’s kinda cool. What can it do? You got a flamethrower hidden up in there?” She jerked her chin down at his arm.

“Is it magnetic? Do you have a compartment for snacks?”

“You ever get stuff caught in the metal bits and gears? Like when you’re jerking off?”

He choked on his spit at her last question, which only made her cackle in delight.

God, he couldn’t take any more. Scrambling to his feet, Bucky got up and charged past the girl, making his way to the exit as fast as he his legs could carry him.

Coming to the gym had been such a mistake.

He should have stuck with his original plan of watching TV and just pushed through the nervous energy. Done some laps of the hallway or a few dozen flights up and down the apartments internal stairs.

Halfway across the floor, Steve stepped back into the gym and met Bucky halfway.

“What are you doing here, Buck? You’re not meant to—”

“Got bored. Came down for something to do. Going home.”

“How did you—”

“I’ll tell you later. Now, move, before—”

“Hey, James, why’re you running away? I still need to know your hair secrets!” Bucky closed his eyes and took a moment to take a breath.

Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Hair secrets?”

Bucky gave his friend a scowl and muttered, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, punk.”

Deciding he wasn’t going to stick around any longer and run the risk of any more encounters, he gritted out, “I’m going home,” barging past Steve and heading towards the door.

Pushing the door open, he stalked out. Just before it banged shut behind him, though, he heard Darcy ask, “What’s Jesus got up his ass?”

And just like that, his hate for Darcy Lewis was born. Unfortunately for Bucky, he learned later that night, he would be seeing a lot more of her.

When Steve finally came home, he cheerfully informed the former assassin that he was going to be her defense teacher for the foreseeable future.

_Fuck._


	6. 12th August 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by: Cosmic Entity 1 of 4 and emmagenetised  
> Alpha: Bahowle
> 
> What did you like? Any thing you hate let me know. I love feedback ♡
> 
> I hope yall enjoy the triple update ^_^

**[12th August 2014]**

**< Training Gym, Sub-Basement 2, Avengers Facility>**

Darcy tried not to wince as the door slammed shut; the sound reverberating throughout the gym.

Maybe she had taken the Jesus joke a bit too far, but it was also entirely possible that _somebody_ was a tad over-sensitive and wouldn’t recognise comedy if it slapped him in the face.

Shrugging it off, Darcy noticed that some of the training minions were giving her the stink-eye. She drew herself up and glared right back at the group of them.

Noticing that Darcy was staring right back was enough to get them to look away, their eyes darting to the ground.

_J_ _udgey fucks._

Feeling quite proud of herself, she was about to about turn and head back to Thor when a soft voice came from behind her. “What did you do to him?”

She jumped out of her skin before she spun and scolded, “People need to stop sneaking up on me!”

Clint grinned at her. “Nah, I think you just need better reflexes.”

“No.” She poked his chest. “People need to stop being ninjas. I tell you, with my diet, there is guaranteed cholesterol in these veins. I am going to have a heart attack at this rate. Do you want that on your conscience, hmm?”

The archer shrugged. “Eh, I’ve done worse.”

Darcy snorted. “No doubt about that. And for the record, I didn’t do anything to James; I just talked to him.”

“That would do it,” came Natasha's sultry voice out of nowhere.

Darcy jumped again. Spinning on her heel, she glared at the red-haired Russian. “There is something seriously wrong with you people. And what do you mean ‘that would do it’?” She put her hands on her hips and mustered up the most intimidating look she could.

She must have looked like nothing more than an angry kitten, as Nat gave her a rather comforting pat on the shoulder and all Clint had to say was, “You do have a talent for pissing people off, Darce.”

“Hey!” She folded her arms across her chest. “I am nothing but a delight to be around.”

Clint gave an innocent shrug, but the mischievous twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“Shut up, Bird Boy,” she grumbled, landing a punch on his arm.

“So abusive, Darcy.” Clint rubbed his arm in mock hurt. “No wonder you made Barnes run away, you’re just downright mean.”

Darcy opened her mouth to show the purple-loving archer just how mean she could be when yet another voice jumped in. “Sorry to interrupt, but I would like to have a word with you, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy _knew_ that voice.

She spun around slowly and had her suspicions confirmed; Captain America, in the flesh, was standing before her. Darcy had to crane her neck back to take in the whole view. And by Odin's balls, _what a view._

Her eyes kept going up, and up, and up.

Past the white, too-tight muscle tee that barely contained the pecs of freedom, then above the chin of justice, were the cheekbones of glory and eyes of sky blue. Once her neck reached its limit, she took a step back, nearly bumping into Clint as she did. She really wanted to take in the whole picture. Because if there was one thing that Darcy Lewis did well, it was appreciate a fine work of art.

And _damn_. This man was a whole lot of pretty.

No, not just pretty, _beautiful_. Painfully so.

As in they wouldn’t need to photoshop any of his promotional posters, or anything about him actually. As far as perfect specimens went, he had to be it.

Was she drooling? She attempted to covertly dab a finger to the corner of her lip to check. Finding it all clear, she quickly averted her gaze to the wall behind the Captain. Looking at him was doing bad things to her ovaries.

She wasn’t able to look away in time to avoid making awkward eye contact with the man, though. Blue and blue locked onto each other for a few brief seconds. A shiver ran down Darcy’s spine. He was the first to blink.

His baby blues darted up over her head to catch Nat and Clint’s eye. “In private.”

“Whoa. Timeout.” She made a _T_ with hands and then pointed to herself. “Me?” she squeaked out, “you wanna talk to me?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis,” Steve confirmed with a nod. “If that’s alright?”

“I'm down with that. I mean yes, yes. Totally fine.” Had she forgotten how to talk or something? Nah, she was just intimidated by talking to the incarnation of perfection.

He gave her a well-practised smile before taking a step to the side. “After you, Miss Lewis.” He held his arm out for her to lead the way.

Her eyes bugged out. “Sure,” she said, stumbling forward and heading for the back of the gym where she’d sat down with James.

On the walk over, her brain ran a thousand miles a minute. Was she being pulled aside for questioning? Was he going to tell her to pack up and leave for tasering James? Maybe he’d found out about that time she’d broken his coffee mug?

God. It was almost worse not knowing. On the walk over she’d felt the Captain studying her. His blue eyes casting silent judgement on her. Taking a deep breath, she decided there was no point in putting it off any longer.

Gathering all of her courage, she stuck her hand out and gave a watery smile. “Hi, I’m Darcy Lewis, we met before when I accidentally tasered your hobo friend.”

Her eyes went as wide as saucers and her hands flew up to cover her mouth upon realising what she’d just said. Her brain to mouth filter seemed to be disengaged so the words just kept flowing, “Oh fuck, I am so sorry about that. Fuck, I’m swearing in front of Captain America, oh god, that has to be like a sin or something.” She bit her tongue to bring the rambling to a halt.

A quiet chuckle had her snapping her gaze up to meet the Captain's eyes. She was shocked to find a crooked grin curling across his lips and blue eyes full of warmth. It took her for a turn when he extended his own hand. “Steve Rogers, nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said with an all-out smile that showed off his pearly whites, laying on the all-American accent.

Shakily, she extended her own hand out to grasp his. “Nice to meet you, Captain.”

“Just Steve,” he corrected.

She was too focused on their hands to really pay attention to his smile, though; the golden tan of his and the pale skin of hers was a stark contrast. Before it got too weird, she retracted her hand, skin tingling from the brief touch, his warmth also lingering on.

 _God. He is hot, in all the ways._ Her brain just didn’t know when to shut up; she felt blood rushing to her cheeks for her thoughts. “Right, yeah, nice to meet you too. You’re friends with grumpy Jesus, aren’t you?”

Steve’s perfectly manicured brows furrowed, making him look like a sad puppy. “Sorry, who?”

“Sorry, I meant James.”

Understanding lit up his face. “You mean Bucky?”

Her turn to be confused. “Who the hell or what is a Bucky?”

Steve raised his brows. “James Barnes?” he asked like it was supposed to mean something.

Darcy had no clue what he was on about until a memory from eighth grade American History class surfaced from the depths of her mind. It had been a time when Darcy had suffered from acne, frizzy hair and an arm full of jelly bracelets, so she generally liked to suppress those memories as much as possible.

The reason the name was familiar to thirteen-year-old Darcy, though, was that every time she’d sat down in class she’d flipped to the same page and stared at the black-and-white photo of Captain America and his Howling Commandos.

It was the man to the right that she'd drawn hearts around. Sergeant Barnes. Historical crush, war hero, and subject of her book report.

Her mouth fell open. “No way.”

Steve's eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yes, way. That was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes that just marched past.” He gestured over his shoulder to the gym door.

“Wow. He doesn't look anything like he used to.” She tilted her head as she took in Steve again. “I’ve got to say that your friend looks more like a Jesus than a James with his current get up. The Messiah Avenger, actually, with that whole badass metal arm thing he’s got going on.” And there went her mouth again, running ahead of her brain.

Darcy winced as she realized that maybe insulting Captain America's BFF wasn’t the best idea; although, as it turned out, Steve was fighting to hold back his laughter. His cheeks were puffed up and his face had gone red with the effort. Darcy grinned. “You like that, huh?” she asked, looking incredibly proud of herself.

Steve was still chuckling away, grinning from ear to ear, wiping tears away from his eyes when he finally got his next words out. “Jesus, huh?” Steve shook his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, I can see what you mean. He is a dead ringer for Jesus.”

“All the hair doesn’t help,” she joked.

Steve chuckled. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Well, he should probably get it cut then.”

Steve shook his head. “I keep telling him to go to the barbers, but he keeps coming up with excuses not to.”

“Why don't you cut it for him?”

“He said he'd rather let Tony at him with a hedge trimmer over me coming at him with scissors.”

“Seriously?”

“Ahuh. I’m starting to think that he likes it long. Even though it makes him look like a damned hippie.”

Darcy snorted. ”A hippie?”

“Right. A hippie or a bum, since he's forgotten what a razor is.”

Darcy laughed under her breath at that. “He is starting to look a bit like a caveman, with all of—” She motioned her hand over her face. She’d expected it to make Steve laugh; instead, his face fell and a darkness crept into his eyes.

“Sorry, did I say—”

“No, no,” he said, waving her apology off. “It’s just that...you aren’t scared of him?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Pft, no.”

“Really?”

“Really, really. Why do you ask?”

“Because he looks like the Winter Soldier still. Half the complex is scared to death of him and I think he’s perpetuating the image on purpose.”

“Ah, okay?” Since when was this a ‘spill your guts and feelings’ session? But she wasn’t the best unofficial counsellor two years running for nothing. “Why do you think he'd do that?” she asked, prodding for more information.

And more information she got. “It’s a couple of things...He never dresses in anything but black or anything that isn’t tactical or combat gear.” He sighed. “A change in image would help his case so much, you know?”

She didn’t but, fake it ‘til you make it right? “Yeah, I totally get it.” She nodded and smiled. She was already running through a mental catalogue of outfits that would suit Bucky better than the black on black goth look. Maybe some blue buttons downs? Dark jeans? Hm...so many possibilities.

Drawn out of her metal fashion show, she noticed was having a moment of musing as well. His look dark and sad? He snapped himself out of it. Folding his arms over his chest, he shot her wane smile. “So anyway, back on topic, I’m your assigned Defense Instructor for this course,” he gestured over to the group of trainees. “However, Thor has requested we get you up to advanced level, so we’re going to be having individual training sessions every other day.”

“Come again?”

Steve’s brows knitted together adorably. “I’m your trainer?”

“No, no!” She flapped her hands about in a fast-forwarding motion. “After that.”

“I am training you solo?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’, “not that either.” She gestured for him to keep going.

He scratched his neck. “We’re training every other day?”

She held her palm up, signalling him to stop. “That. That right there. Every other day, how often is that exactly?”

Steve was now full-on fiddling with his hair. “Every second day.”

“No.”

Steve’s arm fell slack to his side. “No?” he parroted.

“That’s right. No way am I—”

“But Shield Sister, you must!” Thor boomed from behind her. She didn’t jump that time; no, instead she held a hand over her heart and let out a small shriek. Oblivious to her mini-heart attack, Thor ploughed forth with his speech. “For Steven and the Winter Warrior are the best to be training you to ensure you keep your job.”

“Hold on,” she said, glancing between the two tall blonde men. “I thought only Steve was training me?”

“Yes, I'm training you. Buck’s just going to be hanging out for it a lot. I promise, he’s a great guy, he just needs some company and to get out of the house. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay...why wouldn’t it be?”

Steve looked at his feet. “Some people get a little nervous around him, and me, but especially when it’s us together.”

“Why would—” she didn’t finish asking her question as her mind connected the dots. Steve’s fondness for Bucky’s clothes and dedication to him….

_Oh._

_Oh no._

She’d completely misread that relationship.

_Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck._

She knew they were rumoured to be very good friends, back in the day, and with everything that Steve's just said, the heat in his eyes, the lovey-dovey smile….Well. Just another example of how broken her Gaydar was.

Darcy put on her brightest smile, in an attempt to cover up the sudden revelation and made sure to pick her next words carefully. “I’ve got no problems with it. All good if you wanna bring along your, um, your Bucky.”

She mentally facepalmed. _Well done, Lewis._

Steve didn't seem offended by her verbal diarrhoea at least. He’d actually cocked his head and appeared to be studying her.  

Not liking so much attention in her, she clapped her hands together and rubbed them in false glee. “So when do we get this show on the road?”

Steve and Thor shared a look before Steve raised the corner of his mouth into a smirk. “Tomorrow?”

Well, fuck.


	7. 13th August 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update <3 Thank you so much for all of the kudos and comments so far. 
> 
> Beta'd by: Emmagnetised & Cosmic entity 1 of 4! Amazing writers in their own right.
> 
> Alpha reader: Bahowle - this guy deserves co-author credit for how much he helps me out with this story. He just refuses cause he is a butt :P

**[13th August 2014]**

**< Avengers Tower, New York>**

Darcy’s day had been pretty normal so far. She’d drunk a fuck tonne of coffee while reading a billion safety reports, put out a fire that Jane started, and even managed to wrangle Bruce away from his StarkPad and made him take a break from Science.

To cap it all off (no pun intended) she’d hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D database to get the dirt on Captain America. Not that she'd found anything; his record was cleaner than hers.

All of it was in an average day's work for her. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, except for the fact that today was _that_ day.

Her day of reckoning.

The day that Darcy Elizaveta Lewis stepped into a gym; not to spectate but to _exercise_.

Unwillingly, of course, but it was still a momentous occasion. Something to go down in the history books and to be added to her Facebook timeline—if she survived.

She’d been mentally bracing herself for the forthcoming pain of training with Captain ‘ _lease call me Steve_ ’ America for most of the day. With each hour that it grew closer, so did the dread. She began to wrap up the report that she was reading through when her phone vibrated.

Grabbing her phone off the desk, she unlocked it with a quick swipe and started to thumb through the message. Darcy felt her hope beginning to rise when she saw the preview of the first couple of words.

**[Unknown Number]: Hi Darcy, This is Steve. I got your number from Hill, who got it from Thor. Just letting you know that I am going to be about fifteen minutes or so late. Sorry! I will try to be there as soon as possible. See you soon!**

Darcy blinked once, twice, and on the third time the words finally sunk in. Captain America was going to be running late.

Which meant she had extra time to make it to the airport and flee the country. She could change her name and identity on the flight. Something like Max Black, maybe?

Okay, that was a bit extreme for trying to get out of doing exercise, but she really did hate it. The sweatiness, the movement, the effort, everything. Ugh. She shivered at the thought of it. Hell, she got her tired watching joggers run past her on her way to work in the morning.

There would be no escaping this, though, not if she wanted to keep working for Jane and get all the perks that came with it, like the infinite bagels and unlimited access to stationery. She’d become accustomed to the luxuries and she didn’t think she could ever go back.

Knowing there was nothing else for it, Darcy began to get changed and prepared to meet her doom.

 

**< Garage, Avengers Facility>**

 

With the text sent, Steve sighed and tucked his phone into the pocket of his bomber jacket. “I’ve let Darcy know that we’re going to be late, because of your stubborn ass.”

The six-foot super-soldier standing on the other side of the Harley just scowled back, not willing to budge an inch or cooperate in the slightest. Yeah. His friend was a damned jerk.

 _Your jerk,_ his mind reflexively reminded him. _Also your pain in the ass._

Steve sighed and rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache brewing. He’d hoped that they would be able to simply drive over to the Tower in the city without any issues. As per usual, he was wrong.

Exhaling through his nose, Steve pulled back his shoulders and stared into the steely grey eyes that pinned him in place. “Come on, Buck. Just get on the damned bike.”

“No,” Bucky ground out.

Steve felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. “Why?”

Bucky shrugged and tried to shove the helmet back at Steve. “Because. I fucking said so.”

Steve kept his arms in place and raised a brow. “Tell me, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged again.

“Is it because you’re going to be in the back?” Steve asked quietly.

“No,” Bucky snapped, face going slightly red and giving himself away completely. “I just… I don’t like bikes, okay.”

Steve snorted. “Really? That's what you're going with? Come on, Bucky. We've ridden a bike at the same time. Nothing weird about it, alright?”

Bucky stiffened and his eye twitched. “That was different! I was in the sidecar, not hugging your waist like some dame that you're taking on a joy ride.”

And there it was. “Buck…”

“No, Steve, end of story. There is nothing on heaven or earth that will make me get on the back of this bike!”

“Why are you being so difficult? You don’t want people to think you’re sweet on me, that it?” Steve teased, unable to help himself from trying to lighten the mood.

Bucky used to respond pretty well to humour, so hopefully, this would get him to crack a little.

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That ain’t it, and you know it. _My_ issue is the size of the seat. You really both of us are going to fit on there? You’re out of mind if you think so.”

Steve gritted his teeth. “Come on, Buck, it’s just for a few minutes and—”

“Don’t care, I’m not getting on that bike and having my junk get smashed up because you got a date,” Bucky said before turning his back on Steve.

Sighing, Steve pulled out his phone again, and typed out a new message to Darcy: **I might be more than fifteen minutes.**

“Why can't we take a car?”

Looking up from the phone, Steve saw that Bucky was facing him again and with a look of petulance on his face. Sighing, Steve tried to word his answer carefully. “Because they’ve all been reserved,” Steve said, trying to not let his impatience leak into his voice. “I checked everything out, Bucky. The bike’s the only option.”

“Right,” Bucky drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning his back on Steve to walk over to one of the cars.

“This one doesn’t look taken,” he said, standing beside a Range Rover before strolling over to a Bentley and pointing at it. “What about this one? Or is this one booked too?”

Steve tilted his head. “Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Buck. That’s why I said they’re all booked because I checked.”

Bucky huffed and pulled open the door before getting in and leaning under the wheel.

“Buck, what’re you—”

Steve was cut off by the sound of a revving engine.

Bucky popped his head out through the car door and shot Steve a smug grin. “Come on, what’re you waiting for?”


	8. 13th August 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta's: emmagnetised and cosmic_entity_1of4.
> 
> And to the alpha of alpha readers: Bahowle.

**< Staff Gym, Avengers Tower>**

She’d been quietly minding her own business, sitting cross-legged on the floor outside the gym waiting for Captain _Unfairly Pretty_ to arrive. She’d intended to meditate while waiting for Steve to show up, but her imagination had soon drifted to the thoughts of shirtless blonde men carrying her and flexing their muscles in front of her.

Her daydream was rudely interrupted by someone shouting into her ear. “Boo!”

Peeking through a half-cracked eyelid Darcy was taken aback to find a scarily well-trimmed goatee hovering right in front of her face. “Whoa, back up there, dude.” She blindly reached out and tried shoving the man back and out of her physical space.

“Now, now, none of that,” Tony cackled, as he grabbed her wrists and gently pushed them down. “I’ve been trying to track you down for the last half an hour. I checked the cafe, the labs... I almost didn’t believe Friday when she told me you were at the gym.”

“That makes two of us,” she grumbled to herself. If she did, then all chances of getting back into meditation would be lost.

Still sensing that Tony was staring at her, she decided to bite the bullet and ask, “What do you want, Tony?”

“I'm so glad you asked,” Tony said, sounding much closer than she thought. “I don't know if I've said how much I appreciate your work, Lewis. You really are Lab Manager Supreme and—”

“Get to the point Tony,” she warned, finally opening an eye so she could glare at him. “Kinda preoccupied at the moment. And are you alright?” she couldn't help but ask, her gaze drawn to bags under his bloodshot eyes.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. Just haven’t slept. Anyway, you look pretty non-busy to me, Lewis,” Tony said, having sat down to lean against the wall next to her.

“Looks can be deceiving. Never judge a book by its cover. Yadda, yadda. Isn't that like a cardinal lesson in becoming a superhero?”

“My book cover is a badass flying metal suit that shoots lasers. So I am all for being judged by that. Also, I never paid attention in those classes.” Tony gave her shoulder a gentle nudge, “Now, since you aren't busy—”

Darcy held her palm up. “No, no. I am. In fact, I’m going through a whole process up here.” She rapped her knuckles against her head. “Can’t stop now or be distracted. I’m going through the whole five stages. Right now I am at bargaining. I’ll let you know when I get to acceptance.”

“Right.” Tony studied her for a moment, rubbing his goatee in thought. “Look, I’m just going to come out and ask if you're done with that project?”

Darcy heaved a heavy, long-suffering sigh. “No.”

Tony’s face fell. “No?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, trying hard not to grind her teeth. Her dentist had already told her off about that during your last visit.

Tony’s brows knitted together. “So–”

“No,” she forced out.

“But you said... you just said yes, a second ago?” Tony said slowly, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Darcy groaned and shook her head. “Oh, my god, N-O, Tony, Christ.”

Stark, of course, had to be a smart arse about it. “Tony is fine. And from what I hear, Barnes is Jesus.”

Darcy buried her face in her hands, any and all semblance of calm washed away by Tony’s obnoxious presence. “Why the hell can’t you go away?”

“Because I need your help. I can’t get past this one line of code! It’s a bug in the system, upsetting the grandeur of the masterpiece I am trying to create. So please,” begged Tony, “please Darcy, child of my brain and not of my loins, will you look over it?”

Darcy’s hands fell away, face morphed into an expression of disgust. “First of all, ew; secondly, hell no, now shoo!”

“Why?” he needled, quickly getting back up and looking at her intently, trying to unravel her like she was some kind of puzzle to be solved.

“Because I fucking said so,” she snapped, “Now go away, you are ruining my denial phase.” She made a shooing motion that he decided to ignored.

“Doesn't it go—" Tony started to say but was thankfully silenced by the hero of the nation.

“Hey Darcy, sorry for running late, I—" Steve pulled himself up short. “Tony?”

“Hey, Capsicle.” Tony gave a lazy wave.

“What are you doing here?”

Tony scoffed. “It’s my building, I can be wherever I want in it, last time I checked.”

Not falling for the bait, Steve crossed his arms and threw some snark back at the Stark. “Last I checked you preferred to ‘train in private, so as to avoid the germs of other people’?”

“Right,” Tony nodded, “but I’m not here to train. I am here to commandeer, bribe, and seduce.”

“What?” Both Darcy and Steve exclaimed, Steve more out of confusion and Darcy in revulsion.

Tony stuck his lip out and started to really plead with her. “Lewis, please, I will give you my first born child if you help me with this.”

Darcy moaned and face palmed while Steve tried and failed to cover up his laughter with a cough. Taking a deep breath, Darcy finally gritted out, “No, Tony. For the last time, I don’t want anything to do with Ultron and you can keep Dum-E, thank you very much. No one needs that child of yours in their lab.”

“Lewis, come on,” Tony whined. “What's it going to take? A pony? A car?”

“So. Training?” Darcy asked Steve, ignoring Tony completely.

Steve waved towards the door. “Ready when you are.”

She wanted to reply with ‘ _never_ ’, but she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the comment. Sarcasm wasn't going to save her now.

Sighing, Darcy reached down to grab her gym bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. She was about to take a step forward when a vaguely familiar hurricane of anger and brown hair zoomed past, nearly knocking her on her ass. She barely got out of the way in time.

Darcy blinked and the blur was gone. “Hey! What’s your problem?” she yelled after the man, even as her brain was still trying to process what had just happened.

Tony chuckled darkly and strutted up to her to pat her on the head. “That was James Barnes, who appears to be in a mood.” Tony laughed again before turning to Steve. “What did you do to get Barnes in such a state, Cap?”

Steve glowered back at Tony. “Nothing,” he shot back. Darcy hoped that Tony would take the hint and back off. She really did not want to be getting in the middle of an Avenger brawl.

Tony held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I get it. Try not to kill Lewis, yeah? I need her around.”

“I'm not helping you with anything, Tony,” she called over her shoulder as she headed towards the gym.

“You say that now Lewis, but you’ll change your mind, I know,” Tony hollered back, unable to let anybody else have the last word.

She shared a look with Steve, who was shaking his head at Tony, and she rolled her eyes. They both smiled at each other’s reactions and Darcy swore that she near had a meltdown at the sight of his hundred-watt smile. Yeah, it no longer surprised her that the man had such a dedicated fan club.

She ignored the rest of Tony’s calls and walked into the gym as Steve held the door open for her. She followed him over to one of the areas that wasn’t already occupied, near some of the weird strappy things that she’d seen people using to climb all over the wall the one time she’d come down here looking for Thor.

Deciding the spot was good enough to suit their purpose, Steve gestured for her to drop her bag, which she did without ceremony, and then followed him onto the mats.

They stood there for a few seconds in silence, before Steve seemed to finish assessing her and asked a question that she did not expect. “Do you do any running?”

“Only for my life,” she quipped, unable to stop herself from grinning. Steve’s lack of reaction sobered her up pretty quick. “Oh, you're serious.”

Steve nodded.

Darcy grimaced and fiddled with her glasses. “Yeah, no. Exercise and me, nuh-uh. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Right,” Steve said, before pulling out a stopwatch from his pocket and fiddling with the dials. “We’ll have to test your baseline, once I know what I’m working with we’ll go from there.”

Darcy eyed the timepiece and didn’t like the look of it one bit. “What do you mean build from there?” she asked suspiciously.

Steve finished tinkering with the device and gave her a devilish smile. “We start with a fitness test.”

Darcy blanched. “By test you mean a multiple choice quiz that I can take in an air-conditioned room without having to move around?” she asked, in faint hope.

Steve’s deadpan look confirmed her suspicions. With her shoulders slumped in defeat, she shuffled over to the mats and the torture began. Steve had her running laps up and down the gym, timing her and cheering her on to keep going if she started to lose pace. By the time she’d finished the jogging, she was ready to throw up and call it a day. Steve had been jogging behind her the whole time and hadn’t even broken a sweat.

She wasn’t ashamed to say that she had shed a tear when he’d proclaimed that the warm-up was over and they could move onto other areas. At least the tear had blended in with the beads of sweat that were running down her red and beyond puffy face. All quantifiable signs that she was allergic to exercise.

Steve didn’t buy it and had her churning through sit-ups and push-ups. His current torture method was planking, timing how long she lasted before she collapsed. She was proud to have made it to at least thirty seconds before her arms turned into noodles and she let herself fall onto the mat.

Sprawled out in a starfish position, Darcy appreciated the cool vinyl for a few seconds before Steve was in her ear, telling her that she needed to get up as they still had more to do. Honestly, she hadn’t been this miserable since high school gym class and she was beginning to wonder whether her job was really worth all of this pain.

She was leaning towards no at this point. She was also beginning to suspect that when Steve had said ‘ _fitness test_ ’ he’d actually meant, “ _Let’s see how long it takes Darcy to have an asthma attack or stroke. Or both._ ”

Desperate to remain stationary for a little longer and gather some energy, she glanced around the gym until her eyes settled on a dark figure lurking off to the side. “Uh, hey, Cap?” she got out in between pants, still trying to catch her breath. “What’s up with Broody McBroody? He’s looking pretty salty that you’re over here with me.”

“Steve,” he corrected, before following her gaze to the man that looked crankier than Grumpy Cat. “And I’m not sure why you mean by salty, but I did tell you that Buck’s gonna be hanging around while we do our training.”

“Yeah, you did, but that doesn’t explain why he looks like you told him lunch has been cancelled forever. No, more like pizza was sold out in the cafeteria after he waited for twenty minutes.”

Steve raised a brow. "That was rather specific, did that actually happen to you?"

"Yes it did, and it always does because Jane is a slave driver,” she said before jerking her head in the direction of shadow, “But moving on from my problems, you still haven’t told me what his problem is with me."

“He’s not mad, I promise. He won’t get in the way, it’s just a chance for him to get out of the house and socialise a bit with the rest of the team.” He gestured around to the gym.

Darcy had nodded along while Steve was talking and while his words made sense, she still had her reservations about Mr Murder. Something in her gut just told her that Steve wasn’t telling her everything. “Right, and that’s the only reason?”

“Most of it. Look the other stuff is classified, but you aren’t in any danger from him, okay?

“Yeah, it’s cool, just—” Darcy stuttered as she just realised what Steve was basically doing for his old pal Bucky. “Haha, I just got it, you're walking him like a dog?" She gasped. "Is this like a doggy park for grumpy super soldiers?"

Steve struggled and failed to suppress the laughter. "Well, that is a new take on it, but I'm not too sure he likes that comparison."

"What do you mean?" Darcy asked, then glanced over at Bucky, who had gone stiff as a statue. "Oh, my god, he heard me, didn't he? Why can all you super people hear everything?!"

"Trust me, you'll be fine; he's just here to socialize and sniff some butts," Steve grinned and laughed for a quick burst. His chortle was cut off by a thud that rang out from across the gym.

Darcy turned her head and saw that Bucky had punched a wall from the looks of it. Gulping, she turned back to face Steve. “Cool, cool, cool.” She nodded again but still wasn’t convinced. “I want to believe you, but if he’s going to be staring at me with murder eyes the whole time…” she pointed over her shoulder. “‘Cause I don’t think your homeboy has even blinked.”

She risked another glance over and saw that the icy blue gaze of death had finally changed direction from her to Steve. “Look, I—” he started to say.

“I get it,” Darcy interrupted, “I’m a stranger and probably didn’t make the best first impression. But I never do, so it’s not fair for him to hold that against me. I can also handle him not liking me. But wanting to laser beam me to death….” She made a so-so gesture with her hand.

“It’s not that. Bucky... he isn’t good around new people.”

“Okay…” she trailed off, not really sure how to take that information. “You’re sure that he’s not just holding a grudge about the whole tasering thing?”

Steve shot her a reproachful look.

“Fine. I'll take your word for it. But if Bucky comes for me it's your fault. Deal?” She stuck her hand up in the air so they could shake on it.

He grasped her hand and said, “Deal.” But he didn’t pull his hand away after a few shakes, instead, his grip became firmer. The only warning she got was a cheeky grin before he pulled her up with a quick flex of his arm.

“Whoa, what the fuck?” she cried out.

She’d known Steve was strong, but strong enough to lift her to her feet with one arm? It was a surprise she didn't swoon back onto the mat or have a dislocated shoulder.

Rubbing her upper arm, she wobbled on her feet for a bit. Head spinning from the sudden horizontal to vertical change. Balance slowly returned in which she could ask, “So we’re finished for today, right?”

She could tell that Steve was fighting back a smile when he replied, “We will be soon, I promise.”

Darcy groaned and went to flop back on the mat, but Steve caught her and pulled her over to the other side of the gym. There was nothing in the area except a rope that went about ten Steve’s in height—however many inches and feet that might be, with no glasses on she had no chance of telling how high up it was.

She knew she didn’t like the look of it. “You have another thing coming, Cap, if you think I will be climbing that.” She pointed to the rope and shook her head.

He crossed his arms and matched her glare. “If you climb this then we can wrap up early for today.”

“Right and if I don’t?”

“The jogging track is calling your name.”

“Right. By jogging, you mean walking at a leisurely pace because I don’t have any energy left.”

“No. We will do sprints.”

Shit. He had her by the balls. “You’re a cruel man, Steven Rogers. Those history textbooks had you all wrong.”

Darcy set her shoulders and marched up to the rope with as much dignity as she could.

“This rope has got nothing on Darcy Lewis,” she whispered to herself as she ran her hand up the coarse braid, “You are the only thing between me and relaxing in my recliner with a cup of tea and I hate you.”

“You’ve got this,” called Steve, giving her two thumbs up and a smile she hated almost as much as the rope.

 _Just like gym class_ , she thought and hoisted herself up, anchoring herself with her feet. She reached up and made an almost pitiful amount of progress up the rope. Blocking out every other sense, she focused on small goals: _one hand after the other_ , she bargained with herself, _okay_ , _that didn't kill me, this will be fine_.

She had made it up a solid six feet before the sound of what had to be the most old-fashioned ringtone ever went off beneath her.

“Hold on a second Darcy, I’ve got to take this call. I’ll just be a second. Come down and we'll start over when I get back,” Steve called over his shoulder as he jogged to the door to escape the din around him.

 _Fuck that noise_. She was not going to lose the progress she had made so far just because Steve needed to take a call.

Closing her eyes again, she let her mind wander out to lunch and allowed her body to take over until there was no more rope. Glancing up, she saw the wooden beam that the rope was tied to and gasped in relief.

“ _I did it_ !” she crowed, almost crying with pride and happiness, “ _Steve, look_!”

She turned her gaze down and realised two things: one, Steve was still gone, and two, how far from the ground she was and, how much it would hurt to fall from such a height. In one swift motion, her brain shut off, refusing to give her even a hint as to how to descend. She clutched the rope _hard_ with her already burning fingers and let out a shrill scream.

From below she heard a voice call, “Hey, what’s wrong with you? Just climb down.”

“I...I can’t,” she squealed.

“Just, hurry will you? Relax your legs and slide down.”

 _Okay, Darcy, you’ve been through worse than this._ _Be calm_ _, you can do this_.

She centred all of her attention on getting her fingers to uncurl, just a little, from their death grip—she slid down a few feet, before she lost her nerve and brought herself to a halt with a loud shriek. Her arms were shaking, from fear or exertion, she didn’t know, but she didn’t think she was going to be able to make it any further.

She would have to spend the rest of her life up there. She would forever be a sloth, living up high, because she was not fucking coming down. Unless Steve came up to get her, which she wasn’t entirely opposed to. She just had to hang on until he came back.

She made the mistake of looking to the ground to check for any signs of her would be saviour and saw just how high up she was. Her throat constricted and her stomach churned. She was finding it hard to breathe, which was weird, since she wasn’t that high up, but she felt herself starting to hyperventilate.

“Shit,” she faintly heard.  A male voice, but that’s all she was able to distinguish and that they were yelling at her. “Hey just--Calm down, okay? I know you’re panicking, but you’re okay. You’re not gonna fall, alright?”

 _Okay, you got yourself up here, you can get down._ She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut as she released her grip and let herself descend a few more feet, her palms and fingers burning the whole way. The pain became too much and she pulled one hand away to shake it, to get some sensation back into it.

That was a really bad idea, because then the world flipped upside down as she tumbled backwards and fell.

“ _Fuck_!” she heard from below, the air whooshing around her until she collided into something with a jarring thud, she landed on something only slightly softer than the ground. Opening her eyes, and all she could make out was a soft halo of brown hair around a blurry face beneath her.

 _That’s odd_ , her confused thoughts rattled around in her head, _I thought Steve was blonde._

“You can get off me any time now!”

The short bark of words didn’t even sound like Steve, she mused to herself as she rolled to the ground and promptly decided that the most appropriate option was to lay on her back and close her eyes for a little while.

Footsteps thudded over to her and suddenly she did hear Steve's voice as he kneeled next to her. “Are you ok? Bucky, what happened?!”

“She landed on me, Einstein. You know, I don’t hear you asking if I’m okay,” the other man intoned. She felt him move beside her and her glasses were placed in her hand.

Shakily, she put her glasses on and opened her eyes. Steve knelt next to her and Bucky Jesus Barnes was getting to his feet on her other side.

“Come on, let's get you up,” Steve said, gently pulling her upright. “How do you feel? That was quite a fall.”

“I… I think I’m okay,” she said, hating how her voice hitched just a bit at the end.

“Let’s get you down to medical to check you over,” Steve said, wrapping an arm around her to steady her as Bucky walked back over to the wall he’d been perched next to.

“Hold on a sec, Cap,” Darcy said, ignoring the ‘Steve’ that echoed her words as she limped over to the side of the gym. She stopped when she was a few feet away.  
  
His posture clearly suggested that she should ‘fuck off’. Not letting that intimidate her, Darcy gave a small wave as a greeting as she popped her question. “Uh, hey James, I mean Bucky, sorry. Can I talk to you for a second?”  
  
She held her breath, waiting for a reaction or the okay from him to go ahead. He did nothing except blink.  
  
She wasn’t sure if he was even breathing, but it was the closest thing to a ‘yes’ she was probably going to get out of him. Sighing, she started to speak . “Right, okay,” she mumbled, trying to figure out what she was going to say. “Uh, so I just want to apologise for the whole Jesus thing….”  
  
It hurt her pride to be saying sorry, but she screwed up her courage, along with her nose, and kept going. “And I know that I probably haven’t really made the best impression. So, I was kind of hoping that we could start fresh?”  
  
She smiled hopefully , and again, she waited for him to respond. A few seconds passed and she felt her head starting to throb . She rubbed her hand over her temple to try and temporarily soothe the ache. She noticed that the whole time that she’d been standing here, he hadn’t actually even been looking at her, his grey-blue distant and focused on something beyond her.  
  
Twisting her neck to see what he might be looking at, she let out a little hiss at the sharp twinge of pain. Maybe going to medical wasn’t such a bad idea. She contorted her face as another flash of pain crept up her spine. Yeah, a doctor really did sound like a good idea right then.  
  
She couldn’t go without saying thanks to the dude that saved her life, though, so she decided to try and make it quick. “Look, what I really came over to say is thanks for catching me. You didn’t have to, but still, I appreciate it. Fist bump of thanks?” She held her hand out, knuckles ready to go, but the man still didn’t budge an inch.

  
She let her hand flop uselessly to her side. “Okay, gonna leave me hanging. That’s fine, I get it. No touchy still,” she said, her smile starting to fade as well. Not wanting to let the sourpuss get to her, she forced the smile back up, feeling her cheeks stretch with the effort, as she cracked a joke. “I mean, after all, you could say I’ve fallen for you and we're basically on second base, already, right?”

Still, nothing. She cocked her head and studied his stony expression. Seriously, was this dude a Buckingham Palace guard in another life? Rolling her eyes and huffing at the grumpy old man, she started to turn away, ready to let Steve escort her to medical for poking and prodding.

She was a few short steps away when she heard Bucky mutter, “Fuckin’ crazy woman….”

She froze up and spun around. Rapidly blinking, trying to figure out if she’d really heard what she’d thought she did. Bucky’s eyes going wide was the only confirmation that she needed.

“Yeah, I heard your douche comment,” she spat as she marched right up to the man, only stopping when she was mere inches away from him. Hands on her hips, she faced him down. “I never asked for your help, okay? The mat would have been perfectly fine to land on and probably would have been a lot softer than you anyway!”

She was ranting at this point, but she didn’t care. This guy had the nerve to call her crazy? After he’d been staring at her for most of the afternoon. Not wanting to lose her flow, she took a breath and kept going,  “And you know what? I take back the apology, ‘cause you got in the way, again!”

With those last words she was shocked to see his arms tense up, and then he shifted. No, he actually, moved to close the gap between them; nary an inch between them, looming over her like some brooding Overlord, looking down his nose at her. She sneered right back.

He narrowed his eyes, before he spoke, voice low and deadly. “I got in the way? You mean, I saved your stupid ass because you didn’t wait for, Steve.”

She sucked in her cheeks, making them hollow, and made herself count to ten, trying to keep her cool. But Bucky just had to keep going off, “You know what? Next time, I'll just let you become a pancake. It's better than you coming over here and having to listen to you ramble on.”

That was it. “I was apologising, you asshole.”

He snorted.  “You call that an apology? Ladies in my day at least had enough manners to say thank you and mean it.”

Darcy sputtered for a second, before throwing back, “You misogynistic dick—”

“Hey, hey!” Steve cut in, having made his way over to them, “What’s going on?”

Darcy crossed her arms and gestured to Bucky with a thumb. “Winter Douche here was just being sexist as all hell.”

Steve rounded onto Bucky and gave him a fierce glare that made her quake in her boots. “That true, Buck?”

“No!” he shouted, running a hand through his hair, “I was mindin’ my own business when she started to have a go at me and—”

“That’s bullshit! You were a complete asshat and saying I wasn’t a lady—”

“You are the furthest thing from a lady—”

“Bucky!”

“Like you’re any more of a gentleman?” Darcy scoffed. “More like a—”

“Darcy. Seriously?”

“Sorry, Steve. Not sorry to the douche bag, though. He’s just an HR case waiting to happen if he speaks to all the women around here like that. Just a heads up.”

“I treat other women fine, it’s only the ungrateful twits that I have a problem with.”

She opened her mouth to fire back her next insult, but she found her mouth covered by a large hand. “Enough,” Steve rumbled. “Bucky, go wait in the locker room for me.”

“But—”

“Please, just go,” Steve pleaded.

“Fine,” Darcy heard him mutter, along with a few other choice words, before storming off in what she assumed to be the direction of the locker room.

Peeling away Steve’s hand, Darcy was taken aback at the flash of anger in Steve’s eyes.

“I thought I told you to wait to climb the rope?” Steve questioned, voice firm and full of disappointment.

“Yeah, but I had made so much progress and I didn't want to..." A sob hitched itself in her throat and she trained her gaze at her ugly shoes willing herself to calm down. She heard a heavy sigh coming from Steve and she dared to take a peek through her lashes.

She hadn’t realised earlier, but he really did look to be on the brink of exhaustion, his usual perfection dimmed by strain evident in the lines and edges of his eyes. She saw him take in another deep breath before he said, “Sorry, Darcy. Just, I did ask you to wait, and if something had happened to you….” Steve shook his head before he gave her a tight smile, “Well, Thor would have my head.”

“Yeah,” she agreed awkwardly, scuffing her toe on the floor, before mustering up the courage to ask, “So, are we cool?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we’re cool. Come on, we’ve gotta get you cleared by medical,” he said, starting to turn and head for the door.

  
Darcy tagged along after him, basically having to jog in order to keep up with his long stride. “Can you slow down?” she wheezed, her lungs still aching from the fall or maybe just having to move in general. She was so sore she couldn’t tell.

Steve paused and turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Did I wear you out, Darcy? You need a ride up to medical?” he joked, but Darcy wasn’t about to turn down the offer of a free lift. Not when her legs were of a similar consistency to jelly.  

Not giving Steve any warning, she mustered up what little energy she had and put on a burst of speed, running up to Steve and jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He’d managed to lift her up without any effort earlier, she figured that he could stand to carry her up to medical.

On reflex, Steve’s arms came up to support Darcy, gripping her legs to keep her balanced. Settling herself against his back, she threw an arm forward and pointed. “To medical, now mush!”

She felt Steve chuckle, able to feel the vibration through his chest. “I didn’t realise that I was a taxi.”

“You’re from Brooklyn, there’s every chance you would’ve become a cabbie at some point,” she mused, before patting him on the head and digging her heels in. “Now less talking and more walking, I have an appointment with painkillers.”

Steve laughed, good-naturedly again and started to walk forward, as if there wasn’t about 180 pounds hanging off him like a backpack. She’d hoped that the on their way up to medical, that she’d be able to convince Steve that she should bypass all of the introductory fitness crap and just him to teach her some cool moves that she could pair with her taser.

Steve, didn’t exactly agree. “No way, Darcy. If anything, I think you need more training. We have a baseline now at least, so I know what we’re working with.”

“Ahuh,” she replied drily, not quite sharing Steve’s enthusiasm on the topic. “What do you have in mind for that?”

“We’re here,” he announced, stopping just outside of the futuristic sliding door that led into Stark Medical. Retracting her arms, Darcy felt Steve, kneel down so that she could slide of his back. _God, he’s such a sweetheart._

“Thanks for the piggyback,” she grinned at him. “How much I owe you for the ride?”

Steve tapped a finger against his chin and pretended to think. “How about we trade instead? I gave you a ride and you have to show up for the next training session on 15th?”

Her smile dropped. “What? No, come on.” She felt like stamping her foot. It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t deal with another training session with Steve.

The blonde man didn’t care. He just shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Make sure that you bring a water bottle and a towel because you’re going to need them.”

Darcy groaned before she shouted after him, “ _Nooooo_ , I’m not doing it.”

Steve was already walking away, his shoulders shaking with laughter, “See you on Friday!” He waved back at her, before turning the corner and disappearing.

Darcy sighed in frustration and promised herself that she would figure a way to get out of the training later. Glancing up at the red cross hanging above the door, she pushed her way in, more than ready to get those painkillers before taking a long hot shower and passing out for a week.


	9. 15th + 16th August 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you emmagnetised and cosmic_entity_1of4 for your beta skills!

 

**[15th August 2014]**

**< Staff Gym, Avengers Facility>**

Darcy had no idea it was possible to sweat so much. But after two hours of ~~torture~~ working out with Steve, she was close to drowning in her own bodily fluids.

On top of that, she’d noticed that Steve hadn’t even broken a sweat. Not _once_ over the damned two hours of jogging laps and random sets of exercises. Oh yes, her hate for him reached a whole new level.

Steve had finished his set ages ago and was already halfway through another lap of the gym. She heard him more often than she saw him; he was running at a such a pace that her eyes could barely keep up.

“On your right.” 

She barely had time to look up and see the blur of black and white whiz past, going who-knew crazy miles per hour. Grinding her teeth, she pushed herself to jump up from the last burpee in her set and started a pathetic attempt at trying to catch up.

She made it a few paces before surrendering. “Genetic enhancement isn't fucking fair,” she mumbled to herself as she bent over, bracing her arms on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

She knew that she needed to take her victories where she could get them, like the fact that she’d made it through training that day without any further incidents or injuries. Ten points to her.

As if she’d thought it aloud, Steve slowed his pace and came to a standstill beside her. “We’re accident-free for two days.”

She didn’t dignify his remark with a response, although she could have sworn that she’d heard James, who’d been tailing Steve during his laps, mutter ‘For now’ under his breath. He’d pulled up beside Steve and, like his friend, was frustratingly unphased by all the exercise.  

She made sure to send James a dirty look through her hair, which was plastered all over her face with sweat. She knew that she probably looked as menacing as a wet cat, but she didn’t care. She still had some pride. When she glanced up at Steve he gave her a cheeky smile and shrugged. She scowled at him and was about to ask what was next when James’ hand came into her line of sight. She didn’t have time to stop him poking the purple bruise spread out over her forearm.

Straightening, she slapped his hand away and took a few steps back before snapping, “Keep your hands to yourself, Jesus.”

Steve shook his head at them and turned his gaze to Darcy. “You can do another set of burpees and some sit-ups before we move on,” he told her before he took off again.

Darcy wanted to cry. She looked to Douche Bag for some help but he’d already taken off after Steve, leaving her alone in her misery. Sighing, she shuffled back to the yoga mat that she’d set up and started the torture all over again.

Her thoughts soon turned to what she could do after training wrapped up for the day. A long emotional therapy session with a tub of ice cream sounded good. But of course, she’d have training tomorrow too—

She near wept with joy when she suddenly realised tomorrow was a scheduled rest day.  

No training. No perky Steve or cranky James. Praise Odin’s balls.

With this realisation, Darcy figured that she needed to get this day off started pronto. But wanting to be polite and all, she at least waited until Steve had his back turned before she started to back away, hightailing it for the showers. She could _hear_ the warm water calling out to her.

The daydream of clean hair and lavender body wash were dashed when a large, familiar hand wrapped around her arm and tugged her backwards. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She let out a large groan of protest as she let herself be spun around. “You said we were finished.” She came face-to-face with a very disappointed-looking Steve. “Seriously, I can't handle anymore.”

Steve didn’t look convinced. He frowned pointedly at her, his blue eyes drilling into her. It only served to strengthen her resolve; this stare-off was on like Donkey-Kong and she was going to win.

What she didn’t count on was the guilt that began to creep in as she held eye contact with Steve. Slowly, it started to weigh her down, and with a heavy sigh, she caved. “ _Fuck,_ ” she swore under her breath.

Steve’s expression lightened instantly, a smile now tweaking at the corner of his lips, although he tried to downplay it. Ever the sore loser, she stuck her tongue out at him as she begrudging shuffled back to the mats.

“What now?” she huffed, kicking her foot against a worn bit of fabric that was peeling off the mat.

“Now, we warm down. Loosening our muscles,” he explained as he started to shake his arms and legs. He then started to roll his shoulders and arms, almost in imitation of a helicopter.

Darcy blinked, making sure that she was really seeing right. No, it wasn’t a problem with her vision, and she’d been cleared of concussion a few days ago, which left only one conclusion: Steve had lost the plot.

“Stop screwing up your nose and copy my movements,” he said, now twisting his neck back and forth.

She snorted. “Yeah, _right_. I am not doing _that_.” She gestured to the weird movement that Steve was now doing.

“Come on, Darcy,” Steve goaded. “It’s good for you.” 

She could _hear_ the smugness in his voice; the unspoken ‘ _I told you so_ ’. He knew that she knew he was right. She’d been aching pretty bad since yesterday, unable to move or get out of bed without taking at least three super-strong painkillers from Jane’s secret but not-so-secret stash, since Bruce was too stingy to write her a script. His excuse being the ever-usual ‘ _I’m not that kind of Doctor’._

“Damnit,” she cursed under her breath.

Steve just smiled.

With nothing better for it, she observed and found herself enjoying the show of his broad shoulders rotating back and forth. She was still hearing the siren call of warm waters, the shower beckoning to her, and she rapidly lost interest in the display of muscles.

Darcy loudly faked a yawn and mimed stretching her hands above her head in a long, slow movement. Her shoulder joints popped as she brought her arms back down.

“There, all done,” she shot Steve a sugary sweet smile. “Now, I’m off to have a well-earned shower, and unless you care to join…” she grinned at the rosy hue that tainted Steve’s cheeks, “have a fun time stretching on your own.”

Steve pulled himself up and crossed his arms. “Darcy, I’m not kidding. You need to do this.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, furrowing her brows and pretending to think intensely for a moment before she point-blank told Steve, “No, I don’t. What I need is to learn super-sick ninja moves to defend myself. ‘Cause that's what the paperwork says this is supposed to be.”

He shook his head. “You aren't ready for that yet.”

“Dude. You are worse than Master Miyagi. I mean, all you have me doing is running laps!”

“Sometimes the best defence is running away.” 

A loud snort of amusement came from behind them. Both of them whipped their heads around to see Bucky trying to cover up his laughter with coughing, his hand hovering over his mouth as he looked very purposefully in another direction.

Darcy glanced up at Steve to see a scowl taking form on his face, his disapproval clear from a mile away. Shooting what she guessed was a warning look at the brown-haired man, Steve turned back to face her down.  

His mouth was half open, ready to lecture her on the merits of stretching when he spotted the half-hearted pose she'd tried while he wasn't paying attention. Noticing that his focus was back on her, Darcy beamed up at him. “Look, I did it! And because you’re so nice, I’ll do it again for you.” She pulled the pose again, quickly, before righting herself.

Steve was hiding an amused smirk beneath a heavy scowl of disapproval. “As good as it is to see you trying, you’re going to pull a muscle if you keep doing it with that bad form,” he told her.

“Hmm,” she hummed, not really caring. She wanted to be at home, under the fan and watching her new show on Netflix already.

Steve sighed and walked over to her, adjusting her position and stance. “You’re not stretching your muscles out. You need to warm up and warm down whenever you work out, or you will pay for it later,” he lectured.

Darcy dropped her arms and raised her chin. “What do you mean, ‘ _I’m not stretching properly_ ’? You sure you’re not just perving while I’m stretching, huh? Wouldn’t be the first time some guy has gotten an eyeful.”

Steve opened his mouth and gestured aimlessly with his hands. “You know, just, you’re not doing it right. You’re not doing the form properly.”

Darcy stuck a hand on her hip and jerked her head towards the mat. “Alright, you show me how it’s done, then.”

“Alright, alright. Fine. Here. You start with stretching out your arms. You can do that by touching your toes.” He gave a demonstration, bending over, long arms stretching out and easily touching the ground; hell, the man managed to put his palms flat against the ground.

Darcy made a mental note for later of how flexible he was and shoved it to the back of her mind when she noticed the sight before her; Captain America, bending over with his ass was in the air like he didn’t care. Her eyes went wide as he came back up, seeing the buns of steel in live action.

Steve rubbed his hands together. “Now, you.”

“Sorry, Steve. I wasn’t paying attention,” she apologised, telling a half-truth. She had been distracted by _something_. “Can you show me again?”

Steve huffed and stretched forward once more. Darcy took a few steps back so that she was just behind him and was greeted with the best scenery in all of America. “Are you taking notes?” came Steve’s voice, but she barely heard it, being far more focused on the gym-short-clad ass before her.

Was it as firm as it looked? Could she bounce a quarter off it?

These questions were flying through her mind, demanding answers. She was snapped out of her reverie when Steve called out to her again.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah, yep,” she mumbled, without really thinking, “just studying your physique—”

_“What?”_

“I mean, technique,” she blurted out, scrambling to save her own ass. “Your technique for the stretch.”

Steve seemed to buy it, as he held the position for a few more glorious seconds before he righted himself. “Your turn,” he announced.

She bit her lip and pulled out all the stops to look as cute as possible. “Can you show me one more time? Please? I just want to make sure I have the pose down.”

Steve made a noise of frustration. Darcy turned up the sad eyes, feeling tears beginning to form and throwing in a tiny bit of pouting—

“Fine.”

Ah, poor Steve, such a sucker. “Thank you so much,” she crooned, clasping her hands together.

He rolled his shoulders back and gave her a stern look as he warned, “Alright, but this is the last time.”

He began to bend over again when Winter Douche had to go and ruin it. “What the hell are you doing, punk?” Bucky called out from across the gym.

“Demonstrating stretches for Darcy,” Steve replied over his shoulder to his friend.

Darcy heard Winter Douche snort, and in the back of her mind sent daggers at him, but she kept her gaze fixed on Steve, not wanting to miss a single glorious second.

Steve’s eyes darted up to her and he raised a brow as if to say, ‘ _Ready?’_

She nodded eagerly.

Slowly, Steve bent over once more, relaying instructions as he did so: “You've got to relax your torso. Let yourself go floppy and breathe out as you go down.”

“Ahuh,” she breathed, brain incapable of any other thought.

Steve was still talking when the show was interrupted. “Hey, _Stevvvvve—_ butt.”

Darcy's head snapped up to find that Clint had managed to sneak up on them but become frozen up a few feet away, his eyes fixed upon the ass that could make a nun weep.

As soon as he heard Clint, Steve snapped upright and began to study his team-mate’s face. “Clint, what’s wrong?”

Clint’s eyes were still darting back and forth between Steve and Darcy, trying to figure out what he had stumbled upon. He raised a brow when he locked eyes with Darcy. She tried and failed not to look too guilty, but being caught in the act made it impossible to deny what he’d stumbled upon.

“Clint?” Steve asked again, waving his hand to get the archers attention.

Clint kept his eye on Darcy for a few more lingering seconds, before he smoothed his expression over as he turned to face Steve. “Yeah, sorry, Steve. Just had an idea for a new arrow.” He shook his head as if to clear away the vestiges of the daydream.

“Okay…” Steve trailed off. “Did you need something? Or did she bribe you to come in and spring her from training?”

“Hey,” Darcy squawked in protest. At the same time, Clint scoffed. “I would never.”

“Right,” Steve said in a deadpan voice before turning his gaze back to Clint. “So what'd you need again?”

Clint scratched his head and looked like he was struggling to remember. After a few seconds, he had the proverbial light bulb moment. “Hill. She said she needed to see you.”

Within a few seconds, there was a flurry of expressions that flashed across Steve's face; concern, excitement, and then a carefully crafted neutral expression. “Did she say what for?”

Clint shrugged. “I dunno. She said something about a meeting I think. Ooh. Okay, wait. It's coming back to me.” He made a show of rubbing his temples and squinting his eyes, before they shot open wide, with an apparent epiphany. “Ahah! Now I remember, she wanted to see you urgently about some footage from the last mission. ‘Compromising,’ I think was the word that she used?”

Steve made an exasperated noise and turned on his heel, heading for the row of cubbies. He pulled out a black gym bag and shuffled around with a few other things, before pulling the bag over his shoulder and making a beeline for the door.

Thankfully, the Winter Douche had heard them from where he’d been working out and made moves to pack himself up and head out with Steve.

Steve looked back over his shoulder, sharing a look with his brunette shadow, gave him a nod and they both headed for the door. Winter Douche went through first and Steve was about to exit, when he halted abruptly and swung around to level Darcy with a look as he told her, “Finish warming down or you’ll regret it. Clint can show you the rest of the stretches.” He kept eye contact, even as he stepped through the door.

“Oh, can he?” the archer mumbled under his breath but remained in place. Slashing any plans that she had for sneaking off.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Steve, Clint turned his head to give her the look. The Disappointed Dad look.

“What?” she asked.

“Did I seriously just catch you objectifying a National Treasure? An Icon of Freedom? The—”

“Oh, shut up,” she moaned, cutting Clint off. He wasn’t letting her off the hook, though, his disapproving scowl still affixed to his face. “Look, some people have the hots for the Lincoln statue. We’ve all seen the tourists rubbing themselves all over it. Steve’s butt is the same.”

Clint’s eyebrows did the impossible as he raised them further.

“Not like that, Tweety, gross. I mean, just...why make him so pretty if he’s not going to be looked at? It’s like putting the statue of David in storage. That marble masterpiece was made to be admired and adored.”

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself, Darcy. Just be glad I caught you, and not Hill, or she’d hand your ass to you.”

“Hill?”

“Yeah. Her and Steve, didn’t you know?”

“No. When did that happen? Why don’t I know this? I know all the gossip in the Tower!”

“You think so, but no. Nat’s actually who you want to go to for gossip.”

“Whatever,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes. “Now, if you don't mind, I am off to have a shower.”

He glowered at her again, the intensity not diminished at all by the growing distance between them. Sick of the guilt hanging in the air, she called back over her shoulder, “Dude. Stop with the look already. Use. Your. Words.”

He started to wave his hands around at such a pace they were a blur. She knew he was signing at her, and the asshat knew that she couldn't keep up. “That doesn't count! See you on the flip side, dude.”

“Darcy! Warming down, remember?”

“Bye, Clint!” she shouted back, determined to make it to the door.

Clint sing-songing, “You're gonna regret it,” was the last thing she heard before the door slammed shut.

The damned bastard was right, of course, as she found out the hard way.   


**[16th August 2014]**

**< Avengers Tower, New York>** 

Something was vibrating. Loudly, annoyingly and continuously.  

Darcy groaned as she cocked her head to listen to the pattern of the buzzing, trying to figure out if it was her alarm or something else.

She knitted her brows, as she tried to focus and force her foggy mind to focus. She knew what it was. She just couldn't—

“ _Shit_.” She scrambled to get out of bed when it finally clicked; her phone was ringing.

She'd barely moved her leg when a twinge of pain constricted the muscle. Thinking that it was just a cramp she brought her other leg around, and a screech of agony escaped her lips. “What the shit?” she hissed, frantically rubbing her thigh.

All the while, her phone kept ringing. “Fucking, fuck. Stop ringing,” she groaned.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to sit up and started the search and rescue mission for the phone. She knew she heard it _somewhere_ amongst her nest of blankets and pillows. Normally, she loved her plush pillow-fort of dreams and warmth, but it was like a black hole when she needed to find her phone.

She eventually narrowed down the origin of the buzzing to the left side of the bed. Finally, figured out where the phone was: wedged between her butt and the mattress.

Gingerly, she wiggled herself forward and managed to pull the phone free. “Ahuh!” she cried out in triumph. All sense of victory was washed away when she saw who was calling: _Jane._

A quick swipe rejected the call and gave her a few seconds to check out the notifications. She grimaced when she saw there were half a dozen voicemails that had been left by the astrophysicist, along with a plethora of texts.

Darcy went to open up one the few of the texts that weren't from Jane when the phone started to ring again. She rejected the call again, hoping that Jane would get the hint to leave her the hell alone.

Sadly, her ~~inconsiderate boss~~ friend was never one to pick up on social cues, and if it involved Science, Jane wasn't going to give up until Darcy answered. Grumbling to herself, Darcy flopped back onto the bed and answered the next call that dropped in on the first ring. “What?” she snapped down the line,

“Darcy!” Jane shouted, making her pull the phone away to protect her ear. “Why haven’t you answered?”

She opened her mouth to answer but didn’t even get a word out before Jane leapt in, taking over the conversation: “Look, it doesn’t matter. I need you into the lab _now_. The most incredible new data came in last night…” and that’s where Darcy tuned out.

She knew the spiel by heart, at this point. It could lead to a scientific breakthrough, but there was too much raw data for her to go through on her own, so she needed a second pair of eyes, or four if Darcy remembered to bring her glasses.

Only the change in Jane’s tone had her paying attention again. “Darcy, are you even listening?”

“Yes, Jane,” she groaned, rolling onto her stomach and looking at the clock across the room. _10 AM_. “I heard what you said, and I know what you’re going to say, so I’m just going to give you my answer now. I’m not coming in.”

“But—”

“No, Jane. Today’s my half day,” she said, trying to sound firm. “I have plans.”

Jane snorted. “Right, plans to lay in bed all day?”

“Hey,” she protested, “I will also be immersing myself in the latest cultural showings.” Yeah, that sounded decent.

“Netflix is not educational, Darcy,” Jane replied, and Darcy could hear her rolling her eyes.  “We’ve had that argument and I’m not getting into it again. Can you just come in, please?”

Darcy sighed and knew that she had no choice now. Jane was as close to begging as she was going to get. She could still pretend to put up a bit of a fight, though, and try and get something more out of her boss for disturbing her sleep.  “I really don’t want to—”

“Overtime. I’ll pay you overtime if you come in.”

“I was really looking forward to the new season of Orange is the New Black…”

“Double-time,” Jane offered, sounding like it was paining her to do so. The woman had never quite adjusted from having to save every penny from her grants to suddenly having unlimited funding.

Darcy did a little happy-dance-wiggle on the bed and squealed out a “Yes, I’ll be there in five,” before she ended the call. In her excitement, she’d forgotten about her aching legs and was very quickly reminded of just how sore she was when she leapt out of bed and her legs cramped up, leaving her to flop onto the floor in pain and army crawl her way over to her wardrobe. With shaky hands she pulled herself up, using the door as a crutch to support her weight. With great effort and painstaking planning, she was able to get dressed.

She opted for a dress, as she could simply slip it over her head, versus jeans which would require leg movement that she was neither mentally or physically prepared to tackle. Sure, she’d probably regret the dress later in the day when the thigh chafe kicked in from running around the lab between computers and equipment, but screw it. She was getting paid the big bucks and didn’t have time to dawdle.

She shuffled as fast as she could out the door and made her way towards the elevator. Again, one of the perks of her promotion was that she got her own studio apartment in the Avengers Tower. It was on one of the lower levels and she still had to pay rent, but it was super nice, ultra-modern and came furnished. Most importantly, it was clean and way better than any dive that she might have ended up squatting living in if she’d had to live externally.

Finally, in the lift, she sent a prayer of thanks up to Thor’s dad or whatever other deities existed for the invention of elevators and escalators. Such wonderful contraptions that saved her from walking and other painful movements.

Once she was on the correct floor for Jane’s lab, she disembarked and started the slow and painful walk over to the door, which was all the way down on the other end of the super long hallway. Seriously, she’d never noticed just how long the damned hallway was until now.

It was lined with super fancy high tech glass panels that could be darkened with a quick flip of a switch or voice command to Jarvis. Right now, they were crystal clear and allowed a view of the vast expanse of the floor that was Science Wonderland. Several pieces of fancy, high-tech equipment that Darcy couldn’t even pronounce the names of were beeping and blinking as they worked. The place really looked like something out of a sci-fi movie and it knocked her back sometimes when she got off the lift; she wasn’t stepping into a spaceship, but a lab on Planet Earth and she got to work here. Her wonder was always short-lived, though, when she got in and had to deal with the machinery–and the scientists that were annoyed when they didn’t work properly.

A quick scan of the lab showed that this was the predicament that Jane was in now. She hovered over a small metal cylinder with a spanner in her hand. Darcy sighed, pushed open the glass door, and strutted her way over, purposefully having to widen her stride to minimise the pain.

She knew that she was doing a great cowboy impersonation right now and it probably looked like she’d had a wild ride last night, but as always Jane was too engrossed with her work to really notice or care.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she heard her friend say as she set her bag down in the corner, resisting the urge to moan and groan as she bent down.

Getting upright again was a challenge, but after bracing her arms on her thighs she was able to straighten up again and waddle over to Jane. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Now, what do you need?”

She expected Jane to bark out some order for her to bring over a tool or to start sifting through the data. Instead, her friend looked at her with concern, brown eyes flicking up-and-down, taking Darcy in. Not liking the expression that was forming on Jane’s face, she turned her back on her friend and awkwardly made her way over to the tool chest.

Picking it up with both hands, she slowly made her way back over. Jane watched her the whole time, not saying a word and looking at her with worry. Banging the chest down, she scowled at her friend. “What?”

Jane blinked, before turning back to her work and casually asking, “Pass me a Phillips screwdriver and what’s wrong with your legs?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me,” she grumbled as she pulled out the requested tool and handed it over, “the training that your boyfriend signed me up for has turned my legs into noodles!”

Jane hummed and nodded, but kept her gaze on the broken device. Hating the silence, Darcy went on to describe the last few sessions of torture that she’d been through and enjoyed the wonderful feeling of being able to vent. She knew that Jane wasn’t really listening, but it was still nice to just get all of her frustration out.

It also led her to make a rather astounding conclusion. “Thor hates me. That has to be it! Ever since I tased him he’s been holding a grudge and wanting to get revenge. This is it. That crafty bastard.”

“Darcy,” Jane sighed and turned to face her friend, naturally having started to listen as soon as her hunky boyfriend’s name was mentioned. “I'm sure Thor was looking out for you,” she reasoned. “After everything that happened, you can't say the ability to defend yourself would be a bad thing."

As much as she hated to admit it, Jane was right. “It would be nice to be able to kick ass and not be relegated to running away duty,” she admitted. “But can't I just be bitten by a radioactive spider or something that involves far less effort?”

Jane gave a half-hearted huff and shook her head at her before during back to the device. "Unfortunately, I'm an astrophysicist and there aren't any radioactive spiders available to me."

Darcy sighed and let herself lean back against the wall, enjoying the momentary relief of not having to support all of her weight through her legs. " Well,  I suppose I better start turning these spring rolls into summer goals. But just for the record, this working out thing is going to kill me! So I want ‘I Knew It’ to be on my tombstone, alright?”

Again, Jane just nodded in agreement and kept on with her tinkering. Feeling like she needed to properly sit down, Darcy pushed herself off the wall and limped over to the closest desk, picking up a laptop along the way.

Lowering herself into the chair was the most painful thing she had ever experienced, and had her hissing and spitting in pain. Once she was settled in though, she made a solemn vow that she was going to be taking the chair home and sleeping in it. Because there was no way she was going to be standing up or trying to get out of it.

For the next hour or so Jane and Darcy worked quietly, Jane focusing on the broken piece of machinery while Darcy got stuck in the data, sorting it and running it through analysis programs, to break down the math into smaller chunks so that Jane could go through it later.

It was quiet and peaceful and she even forgot about her legs for a bit thanks to work absorbing her focus and brain power, until a jarring and ear-splitting shrieking noise rudely interrupted her. Flopping her head back, she spotted the red fire-alarm in the corner flashing.

“Nooo,” she wailed back, her voice drowned out by the sound.

Jane had stopped working at the sound and was looking around, probably trying to determine if anything in her lab was on fire or if it was related to another level. Darcy hoped that it was another level and that they’d be able to—

“ _This is not a drill. Please evacuate the building via the Fire Stair Well.”_

Of course, it was real and they just had to shut off the elevators. She really should have just stayed in bed.

She cast her eyes over to Jane, who looked absolutely miserable but also torn. She would bet anything that the petite scientist was trying to figure out if she could stay and keep working on her equipment while the rest of the building emptied out.

Leaping into action as fast as her stuff legs could manage, Darcy forced herself to get up and stride over to Jane. Grabbing her friend by the elbow, she tugged her, with some degree of difficulty, over to the Fire Stairs ( _“Drop the screwdriver, Jane. You don’t need it!”)_ and heaved the bulky door open. Pushing Jane through it first, she fumbled around on the wall for a few seconds to find the light switch.

Finding it, she gave it a jab and was welcomed with flickering lights pulsing to life. Jane was already a flight down by the time they were fully on and Darcy was still on the landing. “I’m coming,” she called down to Jane who was looking back at her quizzically. “Just need to go slow.”

Again, waddling up to the edge of the first step, Darcy reached out and braced herself against the railing. Taking a deep breath, she descended the first step and it fucking hurt. She let out a whimper when she took the next step and looked up to see that Jane was scampering back up the steps towards her.

“Darcy, what’s wrong? Really, are you okay?” she asked, reaching around to put an arm under hers, helping her to support herself and take the stairs a bit faster. Again, thank god that they were the only ones to be using this stairwell--so far.

“I skipped warming down,” she puffed out. “Lesson learnt, always listen to Steve.”

Jane looked confused. “What are you on about?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, putting her attention back on putting one foot in front of another.

They made it down another flight before Darcy needed to take a break. Her thighs were on fire. Lowering herself onto a step, she felt a small wave of relief course through her legs. “Go on without me, Jane!” she shouted out dramatically. “You deserve to live.”

Jane just shook her head at Darcy’s dramatics and held her hand out for Darcy to take. “Not without you.”

Darcy sighed. “Damn.” More stairs it was then, as she knew there was no way she was going to get rid of Jane, not until she moved. Her boss was loyal to a fault--painfully so.

She made to get up and was ready to take another step when a loud bang from above made her pause. Was the building about to collapse? Was it some kind of attack? An invasion of rubber ducks? Weird shit happened in the Tower and she knew to expect the unexpected at this stage.

Jane had her head craned back as well, trying to see what the source of the noise was. They both went tense as the loud pounding of heavy boots against the concrete steps echoed down to them. Someone was heading in their direction, fast.

Sharing a look of alarm, Jane helped Darcy get up and they started to bolt down the stairs as fast as they could. She struggled to hold back her moans and groans, but if a super scary murderer was behind them, she didn’t want to give away their presence.

The panic was short-lived when a familiar chortle sounded off behind them, making the hair on the back of Darcy’s neck rise. Him. It just had to be him, seeing her like this. Limping, in pain, and it was just her fucking luck.

“Someone didn’t warm down,” came the quiet comment, followed by a snicker. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back her urge to throw something at him.

He said something else, but she didn’t really hear what it was. She just knew that it wasn’t nice and she was done. She was cranky, in pain, had a bazillion more stairs in front of her and she wasn’t going to take any shit from him.

But before she could whip around and hurl back a tongue lashing Bucky breezed by, nearly knocking her over. She wobbled for a bit before she regained her balance.

“Asshole,” shouted after him, the insult echoing down the stairs. He didn’t even look back, but she knew that he’d heard her.

Jane came forward in a rush, hands out, hovering and ready to catch her. “Darcy, are you alright?”

Taking a big breath, she plastered a fake smile across her face and nodded. “I’m fan-fucking-tastic, Jane.”

Her friend huffed, but nonetheless, being the dutiful friend, put her arm under Darcy’s and began to help her hop down the stairs as fast as she could.

They were making progress, slow but steady. Making it down about three flights of stairs before she heard the heavy thudding of feet again. This time, it was coming from below them. Sharing a look with Jane, they both started to shuffle to the side.

Darcy was crossing her fingers, toes, eyes and even her legs that it was a strong firearm coming to carry her out of the building. Instead, Bucky came back into sight. Glowering and eyes narrowing down on her.

“You back to gloat?” she spat, not in the mood to even try to be civil.

His jaw twitched, and she could also hear that he was muttering about something, but his voice was too low for her to make out anything other than, “Fucking Steve...complaining...chivalry.” He was also starting to get closer to her and Jane, which she really didn’t fucking like.

If she was a cat, she would have been hissing and spitting at him, claws out and taking a swipe. Alas, she was a mere human, incapable of doing anything but shrinking back and shouting. “What the hell are you doing Jesus? _Personal Space!_ ”

It did nothing to stunt his progress. He came in from beside of her and still closer, his hands coming around her shoulder.

She had a suspicion of what he was about to do, but before she could even fathom the thought she was lifted up like a sack of potatoes and thrown over his shoulder, as he started to head down the stairs with her as his load.

In shock for a few seconds, her brain quickly caught up and she started to shout. “What the hell are you doing, you psycho?! Put me down! Jane! Jane, help me!”

The only response she got was a loud laugh, followed by a reply of, “You’ll be fine.”

Knowing that she wasn’t going to get any help from her friend, she turned her rage onto the man-handler. “Hey, put me down!” She tried to angle a kick in, but her legs were too sore. So she settled for beating her arms against him.

It did nothing. He continued to march forward, with her bobbing up and down on his shoulder with each step. After about ten flights, she gave up and let herself be carried down, all the while mumbling about how she would get revenge.

She had no idea how many flights they had gone down now; with the concrete making it all blur together. The only way she knew that they had reached the ground floor was when Bucky came to a jerking halt. His hand came up and wrapped around her waist.

She squawked at the contact but didn’t really have more time to say anything else before she was unceremoniously dumped to the ground. Her ass smacked against the concrete, which had her gasping up at the Douche Bag.

He stared back for a few seconds, his blue eyes flickering with unreadable emotion before he grunted out, “You’re welcome,” and bolted out the door.

Leaving her there gobsmacked, unable to even begin processing whatever the fuck had just happened.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Did you hate it? Did it make you cringe, laugh or cry?  
> Let me know in a comment <3


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